


The Fifteen Steps Towards Love

by Blue_eyed_Crow



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Culture, Alien Flora & Fauna, Alien Memes, Alien Politics, Alien clothing, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Dancing, Denial of Feelings, Exploration of alien culture, Fantastic Racism, Flirting, Gah, Galra Keith (Voltron), Gay Keith (Voltron), Injured Lance (Voltron), Laith, Lance (Voltron)-centric, M/M, Mating Rituals, Pre Season 7, Suave Keith, alien bathrooms, corsets, courting, for now, hints of season 7 and 8, in which Keith has violet eyes, lots of Lance & OC interaction, wacky translators
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-04-20 05:56:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14254446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_eyed_Crow/pseuds/Blue_eyed_Crow
Summary: Spending seven days on an alien planet has its perks. Dances, banquets, fun, and friends. Everything a hero could ask for. The downside was being trapped in a bitter political and racial feud feeding off centuries old prejudices while also trying to figure out a secret admirer and trying to deal with Keith.So yeah.It should be easy right? Nothing Lancey Lance couldn't handle.





	1. Gala Dancing with a Galra

Lance sweeps the pale blue veil off his face to stare grumpily into the mirror and at the alien attendant behind him. The alien lifts an eyebrow (or whatever it is- re:Alien) and stares back at the blue paladin. Lance releases the veil letting it cover his face, and effectively blocking everything from his view. Faint shapes are all he can make out as the attendant slips around to fix Lance’s clothes. Though it is his own fault he has to wear it. Couldn’t keep his stupid mouth shut. He just had to go up to a pretty dressed noble with a veil like his and compliment her. Then go and compliment her outfit. He was just trying to help the _alliance_ , not get an exact replica of said noble’s clothes. But apparently in their culture, compliments were just that- an expression of how much they wished to wear the _same dang clothes_. A sharp tug on Lance’s outfit brings him back to the present. 

“Too tight,” He huffs as the attendant, whose name was ‘not important’, pulls on the belt around his waist. The attendant just ties it, leaving Lance vaguely out of breath. His thoughts wander as his body mourns the the ability to get a full inhale of oxygen. Faint splotches of black dance in his vision and maybe it is too tight. Of course he won’t make too much of a fuss because he’d hate for Space Dad to give him the patented i’m-not-mad-just-disappointed look, and for the Princess to lecture him on space etiquette. Again. No matter how much Lance wishes to, and he really really wants to, he can’t refuse the alien’s (Ylleven’s he thinks) generosity. Or whatever one might call it. They need this alliance. Voltron needs this alliance. Heck even the coalition and by extension the Mamorites need this alliance. Who are going to be attending the ball which is the reason for his ridiculous outfit. All the paladins (except Keith because he’s apart of the blades _Lonce_ ) will be wearing something but as far as Lance can tell they didn’t make the stupid mistake of complimenting a Ylleven’s clothes. 

“There there, you are done.” Cedro says. Lance has decided to call him Cedro because why not? Oh holy crap he can see through the veil now. “I fixed the narrsin. You wore it wrong.” Wow really? Lance is thankful now but he can look over what he’s wearing and holy quiznak does it look good. Not in a vain way, okay maybe a little vain, but honestly he looks like a temptress. The sea blue dress hugs his chest and a thick light blue belt cinches the middle. Probably what is causing his shortness of breath. Dark blue cloth falls to his ankles with a slit running up his left calf to the middle of his thigh. A sea blue skirt dips to his right hip before disappearing up to the belt. It reminds him of a layered seashell. Similarly colored sleeves drape from the bottom of his shoulder to his wrist, flaring at the bottom and said sleeves leave his shoulders bare. A band wraps around his throat holding the dress up, or at least giving that illusion. Delicate silver chains clasp on the junction where the dress meet the band and wrap around his arms looping in an dangling oval fashion before clasping to the back of the dress. Atop the veil rests a crown of baby blue shells on a silver band. The veil faces to his neck in a triangular shape and wraps all the way around his head. More silver chains loop in an oval on the band just before his ear and end just behind it. Lance spins the dress a little watching the chain spin as well. He can’t move his legs very much but with the new view he can see black slippers with dark blue shells on the top. Everything accentuates his features so perfectly it’s almost as if the dress was made for him. Tears prick the corners of his eyes, and Lance wipes them away knocking the thick veil off his face. Cedro makes a noise, reaching to fix it. The dress...it’s perfect...but it’s a dress...Lance bites his lip. He loves it. He absolutely loves it, but he can see the looks on the others faces. The shock, the disgust. It’s not what usually is done. 

“Cedro,” He croaks out his voice thick with tears. Dang, he’ll blame the lack of oxygen on that. “It’s beautiful, but…” Lance trails off. Should he? Cedro lifts an eyebrow. 

“What’s wrong paladin? Do not worry. You can speak freely to me.” Lance smiles despite the fact that the alien cannot see him. 

“But it’s a dress!” He exclaims getting past the thickness of his throat to blurt it all out. “And in my society-on Earth, Men don’t usually wear dresses. People view it as degrading,” Lance trails off his voice getting progressively smaller and smaller. 

“Paladin you are not on Earth, and here anyone can wear anything. I know there is cultural differences, as apart of Lady Mehallawit’s entourage I have experience much. But you needn’t be afraid.” Cedro strokes his face through the veil. 

“Why do I have to wear this?” He asks feeling the tiniest bit drained from his outburst.  
“You complimented Lady Mehallawit, who was so excited that someone complimented the Reshark’s outfit- an oppressed group whose clothes you mimic- she forgot that you were not Ylleven. So it’s best to wear it as not to offend her. She likely won’t remember until a day or two.” Cedro helpfully supplies fidgeting with the back of the dress. 

“Tell me more about the dress please. It feels a little tight, is it supposed to?” Lance asks picking at the sunken belt. It’s really digging in. 

“It’s not nearly as tight as it’s supposed to be. I gave you room because your breathing organs-  
“lungs?”  
"-lungs are right there.” Lance gulps. It’s supposed to be _tighter_?! Oh dear lord, he already feels slightly winded from this! 

“I won’t bore you with details about the Reshark. Just know that we recently came back from one of their cities and M’Lady was so enamoured with them, she took to wearing their clothes to help refute some of the stigma surrounding them as a people. She hopes it will help end the discrimination they face. You are wearing a noble cause Paladin.” When Cedro says it like that Lance feels almost proud to wear it. But that could just be the fact he looks amazing in it. “But I suppose you want to know what to expect. As you already noticed it is very...uh constricting. So constricting that I would advise against eating any food.”

“What?!” Lance shrieks interrupting Cedro, pain flaring in his gut as he does so. 

“Please also refrain from doing that. It’s supposed to be tight, so very tight and if wore for too long the damage becomes severe. Eating and shrieking add strain to your body. You may drink though, and dance. Just be weary of dancing too much. Exhaustion will come much faster than you’re used to.” Cedro continues as he runs his fingers across Lance’s stomach. It actually works. 

“I can’t eat?” He moans head dipping to look at Cedro. Cedro stills his ministrations to gaze at the paladin.  
“No. But those who wear this often have servants to take the food they want so they eat it later…. If you want, I can accompany you and take what you wish.” Lance spins and throws his arms around the alien. 

“Thank you Cedro.” Lance whispers into his doglike ear. Cedro pats his back, and Lance retreats backwards. 

“Here, we’ll do some exercises so you know how to drink without destroying my hard work.” Cedro puts on a playful face and nudges Lance with his elbow. Lance laughs lightly stifling the urge to cover his mouth with his hand because he already has it covered? What the heck? He shakes his head desperate to clear it as Cedro pushes a glass into his hands but not letting go until Lance has a firm grip on it. 

“Okay Paladin, the veil drops a couple slats in front of you head so you can maneuver drinks underneath.” Cedro mimics lifting the glass underneath the veil. Lance follows his movements. The drink sloshes onto the bottom of the veil on his first try, then it actually dips into the drink on his second. The third try he spills the liquid on the inside of it. The fourth time he succeeds albeit a bit shakily. Cedro clicks, and takes the glass from Lance’s hands and sets it down. 

“We’ll clean you up later. Now, we dance.” Cedro wraps his hands under Lance’s arms and rests them on his shoulder blades. Lance slowly copies him. It feels super weird and their chest touch. “Good. Follow me.” Cedro steps back slowly pushing Lance to follow him. He swoops to the side, and back again. He walks backwards swoops and then backwards. Lance follows too shocked to doing anything. Quickly the confusion turns to dizziness. Then Cedro stops and pushes him back, then swoops then pushes. Lance dizzly follows along trying not to step on his feet. It’s hard to move, and the large steps Cedro’s taking means he has to make three for everyone one of Cedro’s. Eventually Cedro stops and Lance all but collapses against him. 

“Maybe you should limit yourself to one dance per parasec this evening.” Cedro remarks and Lance has to agree. And get his breath back. But mostly agree. “You only lasted two turns. Usually we have twenty.” Lance jolts upright, but the dizziness is too much so he collapses in Cedro’s arms. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t dance at all.” He shakes his head bringing Lance to the floor. Lance takes deep breaths, as deep as he can while Cedro scurries off. He closes his seconds counting.  
1...2...3...4…5… Lance counts his breaths. A firm hand rubs his head. Lance opens his eyes and looks to Cedro at his side. Cedro passes a glass of clear liquid to him. Lance’s hands shakes too much to hold it on their own so Cedro helps maneuver it to his mouth. Lance quickly drains the glass feeling much better. Cedro messes with his veil, and Lance closes his eyes. The fabric disappears only to be replaced with another exactly similar. 

“Thanks Cedro,” Lance mutters turning to the dog-like alien. Lance tries not to look at the star-pointed eyes because he doesn’t need his mind to be quiznaked anymore. Cedro looks at something on the wall. 

“Paladin, it’s time.” He announces raising Lance by taking his elbow and lifting. Lance has no choice but to follow. Cedro tucks Lance’s hand into the corner of his elbow and leads Lance out of the room- his room for about seven more days. Diplomacy is so time consuming, he mentally complains gripping the alien’s arm a little harder. Cedro side eyes him, but continues walking down the peach hallway. The stones actually glow as they step on them, and the ceiling glitters like the stars. 

“Beautiful,” Lance murmurs trying to look at the ceiling and ground at the same time, and just stares straight ahead, the hall long enough for both the glow of the floor and the stars to be visible. Cedro chuckles at his movements. Nothing lines the sides, the soft ambience perfect and soothing. Black doors get closer and closer with each step until they’re hovering at the end. Cedro pushes the door open with one hand. They creak open and light floods them, amber painting the scene in a lovely honey color. Many Ylleven litter the ballroom, with thickly cushioned chairs lining the side. A banquet table is tucked near the farmost wall, overflowing with food. Cedro leads him into the room, as Lance let’s his eyes wander. He doesn’t see the paladins anywhere yet… Cedro pulls him towards the left side of the room towards a throne above the rest of the dance floor by a small pedestal. A mischievous looking Ylleven sits atop it, fingers drumming and eyes flitting over the aliens in the hall. A weird wrap sits atop their head, and as if sensing Lance’s gaze. Their mouth twists into a smile, the wide flat (doggy) nose flares briefly. Their starburst eyes rake up and down his body, and Lance fights to urge to cover himself. Their spiky hair fluffs up a bit, and okay Lance didn’t know it could do that, and the alien is laughing. Quietly, smothered by their hand. Cedro smiles, and bows gesturing to the new alien. 

“May I present to her majesty, Ko-tun-drah, the Paladin of the Red Lion, Lance.” The Queen doesn’t stop laughing, gasping softly for breath. 

“Sorry, sorry. You just look so much like Mehallawit I thought you were her for a second.” The royal confesses still lightly giggling. Her eyes light up and she leans forward. “You know, Kratektro, this it’ll be the perfect time for you-know-what.” Cedro’s eyes light up. He nods enthusiastically and Lance feels a pit of dread form in his stomach. Cedro- as Lance will continue to call him- waves over another Ylleven. 

“Tell Lady Mehallawit that the Discordant Paladin will be filling a dream of hers and that she doesn’t need to come,” He says loud enough for the four to hear, but not enough to draw the attention of those near the Queen. The alien nods pattering off, and honestly Lance is too done to question it. Whatever. Be aliens. All he wants is a drink, and to chill with his friends. 

“Oh! How rude of us you must be looking for your fellow teammates. They’re over there,” The Queen gestures and Lance turns to see his friends awkwardly clustered by the food table. Hunk wears a yellow suit, with a orange necktie and a jagged crown on his head. He looks handsome and Lance plans to tell him as soon as possible because at least it won’t be taken the wrong way. Again. Shiro, and Pidge are dressed in a similar fashion but the colors coordinate to their lions. Their crowns differ as well, a soft silvery one for Shiro, and a legit flower crown for Pidge. Allura wears her gown and tiara as usual, and Coran has donned a very flashy cap/one piece outfit that reminds Lance too much of the superhero comics he created as a child. They see him coming and straight up, flashing Lance diplomatic smiles trying not to be too obvious about what they’re doing. Cedro steps forward, and bows gesturing to Lance.

“May I introduce the Lady Mehallawit of the house of Kreto. M’Lady, the paladins.” He sweeps at them before returning to Lance’s side, nudging it and pushing Lance’s hand forward discreetly. Shiro bows and kisses the back of it. Lance feels his face grow warm. Lance.ex has stopped working. Please come back later. Error. Error. 

“Nice to meet you Lady,” Shiro says an easy grin on his face as he lets go of Lance’s hand. Holy crap. _Holy crap!_ He flounders unable to say anything. 

“I apologize but M’Lady recently lost her voice due to,” Cedro brakes off. “Due to recent intimate activities.” Shiro face turns red, and oh- Lance face burns even brighter as such an outrageous remark. Lance stares at Cedro’s vaguely smug face.

“It’s fine,” Allura intervenes placing a hand on Shiro’s shoulder. Her own face is slightly red. Only Coran seems unfazed, bless that man. “This Gala is a beautiful event, I am quite in aw of the way it’s been put together.” Classic Allura. Butter them up. Although it’s dreadfully boring, and so Lance zones out. It’s easier than normal. The soft ambience and alluring displays of food as Cedro and Allura chitter away. The rest of the paladins hover off to the side interacting with others. A small little group has formed around them. A sharp tug brings him back to himself as Cedro passes a glass into his hands. Oh, Allura’s wandered a ways off. How did that happen?

“Are you okay?” Cedro questions as Lance takes sips of his drink, something wobbling his head ever so slightly. 

“What was that about?” He hisses getting his scrambled brain together enough to feel indignant. Cedro gazes at him worryingly. 

“The Lady always wished that someday this might happen and someone might pretend to be her. Although I’m more concerned about you. You dazed off for quite a bit. Please drink the glass, and please tell me if you’re feeling that again okay?” Lance takes a sip of the liquid angry but understanding. Instantly it makes him feel better and he downs the glass. Although…

“Cedro- or Krate whatever I have to pee.” Lance says lowering the glass and shifting his weight from side to side Cedro looks at him startled. He pulls Lance across the hall, hand in hand. He throws open a door and locks it behind him. The walls are white, a black pot sits in the middle of the room. The air smells faintly of bubblegum and cheap-off brand soda. 

“No.” Lance shakes his head. “I’m not going in that.” Cedro give him a look and pulls up his skirt so that only the undergarments are wrapped around his legs. Lance glares at him. 

“If I have to do it all myself I will,” Cedro threatens and Lance closes his eyes. It’s weird. He feels weird. Cedro drops the skirts back into place and maneuvers his hands in a weird box pushing them in. When he takes them out he feels cleaner to say the least. Cedro ‘washes’ his hands as well. Cedro leans against the door not bothering to move. 

“Sooo,” Lance says gesturing to the door. Cedro blinks up at him. “Can. We. Go?” He enunciates each word. 

“Nah. You’re pretending to be Lady Mehallawit. This is her designated bathroom. Duh.” Lance looks at the alien his question not at all answered. Stupid aliens. 

“No offence but this bathroom sucks. I thought you were supposed to be a ‘superior people’.” Lance air-quotes over superior people. 

“The other bathrooms are much much better. They probably designed this one to peeve Lady Mehallawit because not everyone is happy with what’s she’s doing. So they modelled a primeval bathroom.” Cedro waves his hands lazily still tucked against the door. Lance’s curiosity is piqued. 

“Oh? Who’s they?” Lance questions shifting around the room. He ends up leaning up against the wall. 

“Eh. The other political leaders. When things get shaken up their world gets thrown into chaos. It’s better to sit on a throne of lies than sit on nothing at all,” Cedro waves his head as if the answer is the most obvious thing in the world..s. Cedro looks at something on the other wall, and leans away from the door. “Okay we’re all set.” He lifts his elbow hand poised on the door and waiting. Lazily Lance pushes himself off the wall and lightly places his palm on the curve of Cedro’s arm. They once again enter the ballroom, a soft tune fills the air and pairs of aliens dance in a circle in the middle of the room. Cedro steers Lance away from the middle, taking the long way to return to the paladins. Lance quickly gets more excited as he notices them nearing said paladins. Another figure is by Shiro, talking to him, a bright red buttoned jacket pulled over his arms and the signature Mamorite suit underneath. Their black hair ends right at their nape- and Holy Quiznak it’s-

“Keith,” Lance breaths out gripping Cedro’s arms harder. As they approach the pair turns, dark violet eyes roaming over the new arrivals. Keith’s mouth swoops into his signature frown and he folds his arms. Lance halts in surprise at what he’s wearing- did he dress himself? He wears the BOM suit with his classic crop-top jacket and holy quiznak he looks _good_. That shouldn't be allowed. Space Police arrest this man for his terrible fashion sense that he somehow makes look good. Think of the children. Though wouldn’t they be the space police..? He shakes his head clearing it. Keith looks unimpressed glancing up and down muttering something to Shiro. Cedo steps forward with a flourish. 

“May I present the Lady of the Queen, Mehallawit.” Shiro smiles and nudges Keith in his side. 

“...Keith.” Keith supplies drawing his arms closer to himself as if trying to block out the aliens and music. 

“The Red paladin of Voltron.” Shiro adds in. Cedro furrows his brow (? aliens man) and cocks his head backwards. 

“Oh? Six paladins for five lions? Isn’t that excessive? Or do you rotate?” Cedro asks curious. Lance grips harder trying to communicate with the alien. “I apologize, my lady thinks I’m being too forward.” Cedro bows his head. The conversation lapses for a second, Shiro’s face a little tense and Keith glaring at the floor. A new song starts up and Cedro immediately perks up. “Oh! What I wonderful song to dance too! My lady loves to dance, but it’s a shame you don’t know any of our traditional dances.” Cedro pauses as if thinking. Lance gets a really bad feeling about this. “Oh, do you know any traditional Earth dances Red Paladin?” Keith looks up startled looking like a deer in the headlights. 

“Ugh well there’s the waltz? It’s pretty simple,” Keith mutters gazing at the floor as if shy. Lance wants to smack him, where did the fiery red paladin of voltron that yelled at a bunch of aliens and stormed off go? The bad feeling intensifies. 

“That sounds wonderful! Would you mind showing my Lady how to do it?” Cedro smirks and Lance feels the blood drain from his face. He pinches Cedro’s arm sharply. Keith turns faintly red turning to Shiro a look of panic on his face. Shiro just narrows his eyes and nods. Keith turns back and nods his head jerkily. Cedro offers Lance’s hand to Keith both not saying anything. Keith takes it leading him off a ways towards the many dancing aliens and stops before getting too close. He maneuvers Lance’s hand on his shoulder while wrapping his own on Lance’s waist. Keith stiffly holds him at almost arm’s length and starts to move. Keith pushes back, the grip on Lance’s waist burning. Or is that just him? Lance’s skin prickles with electricity and he fights back a shiver. Keith’s hand on his own is firm and warm.. And nice. Lance closes his eyes for a second letting Keith lead him. It’s not that hard, he’s going slow and only in that weird square they teach you in elementary school. When he opens his eyes, Keith is leaning forward bridging the distance. His nose wrinkles as he sniffs the air. Quiznak, that shouldn’t be cute. He looks like a bunny. Oh no. Too cute. Lance’s heart skips a beat as Keith furrows his forehead concentrating intently on Lance. Lance grows warm, blood rushing to his cheeks. He ducks his head, not used to having such an intense look directed at him. Keith yanks Lance to his chest, burying his nose in his neck. Lance squeaks face growing warmer. If this was a cartoon he’d be smoking. Keith pulls back but still hold him to his chest, waltzing slower now. 

“Lance? What the hell are you doing?” Keith growls and oh that’s hot. Focus Lance, stop being thirsty. 

“Heh, h-how could you tell?” Lance’s voice creaks and he winces at the sound of it. Lance leans forward a bit, letting Keith support him more fully. Keith frowns at his words looking at him like he’s the most puzzling..uh puzzle in the universe. 

“No one could suck at dancing as much as you do,” Keith huffs relaxing a bit. The muscle under Lance’s hand just melts. Lance gasps mock offended a smile tugging his mouth upwards.

“How dare you mullet! I’ll have you know I’m the better dancer between the two of us!” Lance clenches his hand on Keith’s shoulder probably liking the way the muscle bunches up underneath his touch too much. Keith raise an eyebrow becoming less stiff by the minute. The pair just sways now, occasionally stepping forward and back. 

“Really?” He teases a smirk growing on his face. 

“Yep,” Lance says popping the p, “You’re too stiff and mwll.” Lance makes a noise at the end as if that describes anything. Keith looks at Lance quizzically. “Back home they called me the salsa master and-” A sudden pressure on his waist makes him stop. Keith’s grin is back in full force. Lance feels his face heat up as Keith leans forward. 

“Well Salsa Master,” he purrs and oh quiznak what did Lance do, “Let me give you a dance worth remembering.” Immediately Keith starts moving going forward and back, sweeping Lance is a circle. Keith moves his hand towards the small of Lance’s back. Keith keeps pressure there lead Lance is circles, movements firm yet confident. They sweep along with the other alien pairs reminding Lance of those princess dance scenes in Disney. _Holy crap he’s a Disney princess._ Keith chuckles, eyes soft. 

“Alright my princess,” he teases letting Lance burn in embarrassment. Crap he must've said that aloud. Although he strangely doesn’t mind the nickname. Dang it. Lance jolts forward, his head burns too much. Keith continues spinning him, guiding him where he deems fit. The pressure in Lance’s head builds. He huffs and drops his head against Keith’s shoulder. Keith tenses in surprise before wrapping his arms around Lance. Lance closes his eyes as a sudden wave of exhausted combined with nausea rolls from the very core of his being. His ears roar with his heartbeat. Wave after wave. Static prickles, and darkness lurks in the corners of his eyes. 

“-Princess-wrong?” He can feel vibrations against his cheek. Keith, his mind supplies. Keith is talking. 

“I might...need to sit down,” he confesses. They’re moving, Lance no longer has his pillow- he _liked_ that pillow. A firm hand tugs his own. Lance stumbles, and they stop. He whines, and the hand is back draped across him holding him up. Lance’s head lolls cupped by something. The touch is gentle and Lance nuzzles into it, closing his eyes. It feels so nice. 

“-ance,” Someone says removing the hand. Lance whines at its loss and immediately it returns. Something rubs his head and Lance purrs at the contact. They laugh and Lance let’s himself relax ignoring the buzzing in his head. Something pushes him upright and forces something to his lips. He doesn’t want to drink. He tries to turn his head but something prevents him. They force open his jaw and pour the liquid inside. He pushes it back out but they pinch his nose close as they pour more. Lance swallows the liquid warming his throat. Pleasant tingles race to his fingers and up his spine. He presses his lips greedily against the glass trying to drink more. He can feel the warm liquid dribble down his chin but before it can drop a hand swipes it away. The buzzing, and warmth fades more with each gulp. Lance opens his eyes, blinking back the fuzziness. Sound is dulled, but the sight of Keith sitting in front of him brow pinches in worry. He relaxes a bit coming to stroke Lance’s face. Lance shakily takes the glass from Keith and downs the rest of it. The fuzziness subsides to a small tingle. Keith offers a smile running his thumb across Lance’s cheekbone. Keith stills eyes going wide. Lance places his hand on top of Keith’s, face softening. Keith expression follows, a small little smile curbing his lips. 

“Hey Samurai, I think I owe you a dance don’t I?” Lance smiles. Keith laughs softly. 

“Are you up for it Sharpshooter?” He asks, pressing another glass to Lance’s lips. Lance winks draining the glass. He feels much better. Keith wipes Lance’s lips. Lance winks once more watching as Keith’s face heats up. Lance: 1, Keith: 0. Keith immediately collects himself and lets his eyes rest on Lance’s lips, wetting his own. _Quiznak_. Lance:-1000, retreat soldier retreat. Lance can hear himself gulp. Calm down, stop being thirsty. He chatsies himself letting Keith haul him to see his feet. 

“I owed you the dance, Keith,” Lance halfheartedly protests already winding his arms around Keith’s neck. 

“What’s stopping you?” Keith says wrapping his hands around Lance’s waist and pulling him closer. Lance chuckles and begins to sway, surprised that Keith follows me. 

“You’re right. But what’s a dance without music?” Lance smirks still swaying. It’s not because he doesn’t actually know how to dance. Pssht whoever said that was lying…. Well… Keith breaks his train of thought that laugh of his- the special laugh Keith uses whenever he does anything stupid but Keith can’t help but fondly laugh over- not that Lance has categorized and memorized Keith’s different laughs because that’s just creepy. 

“Are you offering to sing for me Loverboy? I feel so special,” Keith chuckles. Lance blushes debating whether or not he should. Mama did say he had a nice voice… “Oh wait you’re serious? You don’t have to.” Keith’s face turns bright pink, surprise coloring his already dazzling eyes. Oh now Lance just _has to sing_. He clears his throat letting Keith take control of the dance even though they are literally just swaying. It’s the thought that counts.

“ _Do you hear me? I’m talking to you,_ ” Lance sings enjoying the way Keith’s eyes light up. His mouth drops open a tad, his cheeks flush even darker spurring Lance to keep singing. “ _Across the water across the deep, blue ocean~_ ” Keith tips his head to the side listening intently now. His eyes glitter and a small smile curves on his lips. “ _Under the open sky, oh my, baby I’m trying._ ” Lance licks his lips, going higher but only a little bit. Not nearly high enough that song calls for. “ _Boy I hear you in my dreams,_ ” Lance blushes at the unintentionally truth of the words. “ _I feel your whisper across the sea. I keep you with me in my heart._ ” Even when you leave me, Lance thinks. Keith wraps his arms tighter around Lance hiding his face. “ _You make it easier when life gets hard._ ” Lance pauses to lower his voice again before continuing the blush attacking his face. Singing is hard. “ _I’m lucky I’m in love with my best friend, lucky to have been where I have been. Lucky to be coming home again._ ” Lance starts to hum, enjoying the feel of being rocked. Keith lifts his head and places his hand on the side of Lance fades. Lance stops singing. His heart beats loudly and idly Lance wonders if Keith can hear it. Is it just him or is Keith coming closer? Oh gosh does his breath smell? What if his breath smells! The door bangs open and Lance flies back as if burned. Cedro stands at the doorway no doubt taking stock of Lance’s burning face and flight response. 

“Sorry for interrupting, thought you might want to rejoin the dance. Continue sucking face,” Cedro closes the door behind him leaving the pair in awkward silence. Lance diligently does not meet Keith’s gaze. Instead he gives a forced laugh. 

“Aliens amright? Always assuming.” Keith says nothing, the tension still thick. His hands are stiff but they haven’t moved. 

“Yeah. Just two guys dancing,” he says after a beat to which Lance nods too fast. They suffer in silence for a couple more ticks. 

“I’m going head back out to party,” Lance moves towards the door. He almost jumps when Keith’s hands grips his shoulder hard. Lance spins staring at the very red half-Galra. Red just like his lion. Lance bits back a nervous giggle at the thought. Keith is so close. Keith raises his hands to Lance’s face, who may or may not have squeaked and blushed furiously. He can neither confirm nor deny the accuracy of that statement. 

“Your veil,” Keith explains lamely tugging something down in front of Lance’s face. Oh. Right. He wore a veil. Lance ducks his head. 

“Thank you,” he whispers quietly. So quietly he isn’t sure Keith heard. Keith strides forward, opening the door. 

“Welcome,” he grunts and then he’s gone. Lance follows slowly after, feeling a bit numb. Cedro waits for him outside and escorts him back to the ballroom without a word. He gets introduced to a few more people and dances with a couple but they can tell he’s out of it. Cedro eventually leads him back to his room and helps him undress. 

“I’m sorry,” He says undoing the corset-like torture device around Lance’s waist. Lance hums questioningly. “I should have waited a couple more minutes.” He removes the crown. Lance shrugs. 

“Nothing was going on.” He knows Cedro doesn’t believe him for one second. Even the silence is disbelieving. Cedro mimics a hum. Cedro steps back letting Lance finish. He drapes a robe on the bed and steps into the washroom. Lance pulls off the dress and wraps it to put on a stool. Lance wraps the robe around himself enjoying the fluffy fabric against his skin. He goes into the washroom to see Cedro fiddling with different things. 

“I don’t know if it’s customary on your planet but hear we use creams to rejuvenate the skin and to bathe.” He lifts a bottle to Lance, a peace offering. Lance smiles at the skin care item.  
“Some people do. Some don’t.” He takes the white bottle and holds it close. “I’m one. Except we actually use water to bathe.” Lance isn’t judging though, or does he expect a nice warm bath/shower. Turns out Alteans didn’t bathe with water either. Little strange but workable. Cedro cocks his head to the side. 

“You bathe with water? Like that falls from the sky?” Cedro asks nose scrunching. Oh they have rain here? Lance is liking it better and better.

“Purified warm water. Rain is too polluted for a proper bath.” Lance explains, Cedro nods confusion fading from his features. “Thanks for the cream.” Lance thanks him. 

“You’re welcome Blue paladin. The bottle you’re holding is just for your skin. To bathe you’ll need this one.” Cedro lifts a teal bottle and places it atop a platform jutting out from the side. He seals where the creams came from revealing a mirror. “Before I go, this is the toilet, and this clean your hands. This for your teeth, although I’m not sure it’ll help. With you being an alien and all.” Cedro waves his hands around. Lance laughs a little. 

“Thank you Cedro- do you mind if I call you Cedro?” Lance feels a little guilty he didn’t ask earlier. Cedro grins. 

“It’s an honor to be named by the protector of the universe. Why Cedro?” Cedro pats Lance’s shoulder moving past him into the room. 

“Oh. My older brother’s middle name was Cedro, and it just fit,” Lance blushes a bit. Cedro takes Lance into a hug and presses his cold nose to the side of Lance’s neck. His nose is also wet. Cold and wet like a dog's. 

“I am honored paladin.” Cedro murmurs his voice heavy. Is he...is he crying? Lance wraps his arms around the alien to discover he isn’t crying per say- no tears. Instead his fur stands up and down, the tips becoming more and more shiny. It’s weird, but also strangely moving?  
“Forgive me paladin, I was swept by emotion at the honor of being kindred to you.” Cedro clasps the paladin’s hands. “I know it’s not your culture but names are powerful, new names to denote close kinship, and being named after a family member is an honor. A statement to all; I consider them apart of my family. You must display your heart on your crostin.” Lance raises an eyebrow at the unusual word but nods anyway. Must be similar to wearing it on his sleeve, as his Grandad used to say. Cedro steps away running his hands over his hair.  
“Goodnight paladin. May you rest easy.” Cedro slips out the drop leaving Lance to get ready for bed. He enjoys the slight tingle of the bathe cream, and even though it pales in comparison to nice hot bath, it smells divine. Lance rubs the skin cream onto his chest first, curious to see as what it does. It turns clear and dissipates quickly. The skin it touches literally shines. Lance runs a hand over the skin, and nearly jumps when he feels one of the softest things in his life. 

“Holy mac n cheese aliens rock,” Lance marvels spreading the cream over his face. “I want to marry this face cream.” Lance holds it up dramatically. “Or would it be my hot affair on the side. Eh there’s enough of Lancey Lance to go around.” Lance does finger guns and drops the cream. If anything was more symbolic than that he doesn’t know. Lance sighs as he picks it up. “And that’s the sign that Lancey Lance needs to crawl into bed and stop talking to himself,” Lance mutters returning the cream to the platform. Lance yawns as he collapses against the smooth sheets. “Aliens,” he yawns again bunching the sheets around him, drifting already. _“Aliens.”_


	2. Woo Me With Your Food Making

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance knows that political power plays are never easy, but never expected this one to be so... revealing. 
> 
> Or alternatively Lance makes friends, discovers something greater than Hunk's cooking, and discovers alien memes all within a day  
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mornings were one of the worst things to wake up to. Second only to imminent death and torture...Maybe Lance was being a tidge dramatic. But this time it was justified! (It was not justified).  
“Cedro!” He shrieks, a mixture of fear, disgust, anger, and burning humiliation making their home in his gut. Said Alien in question grins wider holding up the clothing.  
“It’s been requested by others. They wish for the paladin of blue to truly experience the Gussepch cultures,” Cedro mutters sounding like a pre recorded speech. The translator in Lance’s ears makes a whirring sound and Pidge’s voice booms Earth. Lance winces cupping his ear in pain. As much as he loved the pigeon, she really has to learn volume control. Cedro mistakes his flinch for something else and the smile drops a little.  
“I know Blue one. But it’s only a power play if you let them win. You must take it, and own it.” Lance looks at the outfit- if it can be called that- and back to Cedro.  
“I preferred the corset.” he deadpans and Cedro looks decidedly at the floor. “Nooo-noo-no-no-nuh-no-nope,” Lance declares shaking his head. “I’m not wearing it!”

 

Lance wears it. He grudgingly staring at himself in the mirror. A small part of him is overjoyed and loving it. The majority however is not. A similar corset is around his waist and only stops underneath his pecs. A strip of fabric crosses the bare minimum of his pecs and over his collarbone. The majority of his chest is exposed. Chains loop from shoulder to shoulder hitting the bare expanse of skin. His shoulder are exposed and the sleeves are tied just above his elbow. The entirety of his bicep is exposed, the fabric dangling underneath his arm. Wholly impractical but otherwise fine. If not for the bottom.  
“This is practically booty shorts with lace.” Lance waves his hands around. Blue short-shorts and baby blue lace. Oh and thin silk like straps on his thighs attaching to said speedo. With gaudy red feathers attached to his back by who knows what. They curve outward and down. At least the shoes aren’t bad, with ribbons along his shins turning into the hard blue shoes. The tips are ribbons just wrapped around his toes. Cedro spins him around fluffing the stupid feathers. They don’t even match the blue.  
“I have no idea what that is but this is archaic stereotypical Gussepch self seller clothing. Obviously it’s been modified.” Cedro tries to explain. Lance turns eyebrow raising. “Gussepchs are from the Starcrest System, with two large feelers and three arms. The diplomat is Caltessto.” Lance vaguely recalls a greenish alien that matches the description.  
“I still don’t understand why he’d send me this,” He gestures to himself. What could the alien possibly have to gain from doing this?  
“Humiliation for you and enforcing the negative attitude that many species have towards the Reshark. It’s a Power Play.” Lance nods his face settling. Ah. He can do this, he’s done it before. Lance nods.  
“Just one request Cedro.” The alien looks at him mouth drawing into a line. “My teammates don’t see me like this.” Cedro nods face tight.  
“Of course blue paladin. Are you ready?” Lance turns to the alien his face neutral.  
“Honestly? No. But let’s do this anyway.” Cedro takes his hand and pulls him forward. Lance nearly jumps when the feathers brush against his thigh and Lance blushes a bit. Cedro doesn’t stop, lightly tugging Lance down yellow crystal halls polished to perfection. If not for the impressive construction materials the hallways would be quite boring. 

 

Cedro stops in front of two peach doors, pulling Lance to his side. Lance offers him a small smile, grateful for Cedro’s presence. Lance takes a breath and opens the doors himself entering with a bang. Lance stops and looks at the shocked faces of a cluster of aliens seated at a small rounded table.  
“Kellavit is this..” One asks eyebrows (once again aliens) raising. They might be tentacle like feelers and while his Mama taught him not to stare, Lance doubts the rules apply to aliens. Or maybe it’s double. Whatever. Cedro claps Lance’s back hard, drawing Lance’s attention away from the light gray alien.  
“Yep. Be cool guys.” Cedro admonishes pushes Lance towards a seat. The first speaker, Octo as he will now be called, perks right back up.  
“Ha. That’s rich coming from you Kellavit.” Another alien, a pink one, pipes in a deep voice. Guy or Girl? At this point he doesn’t know. Aliens dude. Snickers float from around the table and Lance, if he wasn’t so nervous, he would have definitely joined in. The alien reminds him of Pidge. With the thought of the green paladin, Lance’s mood sinks a little. Something Cedro definitely notices. He flounders for something to say but the other alien right besides the pink girl (?),a blue girl, slaps the table.  
“Ha, good one” says the blue one in a deep voice- also probably not a girl then. 50-50 at this point. The pink one smirks gesturing to them self.  
“My name is Ellvatrish, this is my brother Ellvatrosh. Yes we’re hatch-same. No I am still a girl.” They (she) explains tapping the table with her finger. Lance blinks past his stupor noticing the third eye situated on her forehead, the distinct lack of a nose, and ears. Not exactly bad, but not Lance’s normal cup of tea. Still….  
“Hello, I’m sorry. I was just so stunned by your beauty I forgot to breath,” He flirts, or at least tries. Honestly not the best he could’ve done. But hey cut him some slack. He’s practically naked surrounded by unknown aliens forced to participate in a social power struggle that he didn’t even want to be apart of. Ellvatwallatwinkle...Ellva giggles, bringing a hand to her mouth. Octo sigh-laughs. Ellvatick-tock, Ellvo, bursts out laughing.  
“Thank you Blue paladin. I needed that,” Ellvo says wiping something from his cheek. Ellva frowns and elbows him in the side.  
“Quelf.” She huffs at him as he doubles over in pain. “Ignore my brother- he thinks it’s hilarious whenever someone flirts at me.” She reaches over and clasps Lance’s hand. She winks. Lance feels his face heat up at the gesture. _Nice._  
“Not to break up whatever that was but I’m Gonasaur,” Octo says and that’s way better than Octo. Gonasaur. Heck yeah. Lance grins unconsciously. “Look he likes me! Suck that Elllvatrish! Our children will be beautiful!” Gonasaur cheers clasping Lance’s other hand. Lance blushes at that and looks down. Ellva and Cedro both smack him hard. Lance laughs lightly as they chastise him. Ellva’s eyes glint dangerously as she takes Lance in. Lance shivers at her gaze. She laughs removing her hand. He misses her warmth but like not in a Bi way. Like I-want-to-cuddle-hard-and-gossip-about-boys-with-you. A Hunk way if you will.  
“Gonasaur you don’t have a chance.” She laughs gazing flitting from the aliens back to Lance. Gonasaur groans and hides his head.  
“Why are the hot ones always taken.” Ellva laughs again thoroughly enjoying the situation.  
“Tell me. Who is it? Who has caught the elusive Blue one’s eyes?” She demands. She taps her finger against her face as if thinking aloud. Lance sputters face red.  
“Wha-no outrageous. I definately- how could you- Maybe you like someone and are trying to cover it up. Hmm” Lance word vomits crossing his arms. A mantra of death wraps around his head. Ellvo grins wickedly and Gonasaur sobs. Cedro covers his face poorly hiding a grin.  
“Aww little Blue has a crush. Don’t worry. We won’t tell,” Ellvo purrs winking at Lance. “I wonder who it is?” Lance sputters again, face growing even more red.  
“Why I never-” Aaaannnd he’s British. Wow wonderful. The group ignores him focusing on Ellva as she tries to figure out Lance’s crush- _which doesn’t exist thank you very much._ (Ah denial).  
“It isn’t the green, yellow or black one...and the pink one doesn’t seem your type,” Ellva pauses and jolts up. “Is it the Mamora child? I knew he was too small to be full Galra!” Lance sputters his brain not working, and his mouth desperately trying to help. It’s a mess. The group laughs. Lance stands up finger out channeling his mother.  
“What that’s ridiculous! I can’t even- that’s- maybe you like him and are just trying to trip me up. Uhuh. I see through your lies.” Lance crosses his arms. Okay, less mother and more meme like. The aliens blink at him for a tick or two before burst out in laughter again.  
“Oh you’re so shackled!” Ellvo cries. Lance huffs.  
“Am not!” Ellvo stands up and hops on his chair looking down on Lance.  
“Are too,” He cackles. Lance cannot stand the threat to his honor (even if they’re technically minisculely right- he can admit that much). He hops and the chair and onto the table. Then two things happen. Well three things. First, the door opens and someone enters. Then, Ellvo falls off his chair but that’s not important. Second (third), Lance turns, thinking it’s a servant feeling a tiny smidge of embarrassment but ready to hop down. It’s not a servant. That tiny smidge? Not tiny at all. Gargantuan, humongous! All-consuming. Lance desperately wishes for the sweet release of death in that moment. Or anything but this.  


“....Lance?” The purple-eyed devil in question asks, his black bangs falling over his eyes. Lance, the intelligent being he is, short-circuits at the sight. Ellva sighs and suddenly the ground’s moving closer? He falls and the ground isn’t as hard as he thought. It’s kinda warm and squishy but still firm. It’s...nice. A soft chuckle brings Lance out of his daze- he honestly has to stop doing that- and Lance blinks into soft violet eyes. _Pretty._ Lance grins up at Keith before he can stop himself. Very quickly he becomes aware of being wrapped in Keith’s arm’s- _whose hand is on his back_ \- Lance jumps back. At this point he might as well just become a tomato. Keith moves forward and then stops eyes widening comically. Lance follows his gaze and oh. Lance crosses his legs uncomfortably. He forgot what he was wearing. Lance glances quickly to the other aliens who all wear the same smug expression. Ellvo, upon making eye contact with lance, starts making kissy faces. Lance frowns at them turning his attention back to Keith. Who is still staring at him with the same open mouthed expression. Actually it’s starting to weird him out now.  
“Do you mind?” He snaps his voice coated in annoyance. Better to be annoyed than… something else. Keith’s gaze snaps to his eyes, fear and embarrassment flickering in the depths. And something else too, hidden but gone too quickly to know what it was. Keith steps forward anger flitting across his features. Lance steps back, lowering his gaze to the side. He waits, the room quiet. Lance risks a quick glance up, stunned by the growing smirk on Keith’s face.  
“No I don’t,” He chuckles making an exaggerated motion of checking Lance out. Lance eeps and hangs his head trying to cover as much as himself as possible. If this was a cartoon smoke would be billowing from his ears. Or he’d explode. Both options sound good right now. A hand-Keith’s- pushes Lance’s head upward, a soft smile settling on his face. He looks so in lo-. Lance pushes his head back down as he coughs mentally. Nope not going down that road.  
“C’mon Blue. What’s wrong?” Keith asks teasingly. Lance risks another glance, and Keith looks more concerned than teasing. His brow furrowed and the violet eyes clouded with worry. Lance just eeps, at this point past communication. Honestly let him die. Someone tell his Mama he loved her and deeply misses her garlic knots no matter how misshapen they were. Actually don’t tell her that last part. Lance doesn’t want to face that wrath. Thankfully, Ellva, an angel sent from heaven takes pity on his, what did she call it? Chained? She takes pity on his chained soul.  
“Hello Red paladin, I’m sure Blue is fine, he just needs something to eat. Would you care to join us?” She even bats her eyes innocently. Lance was wrong. She is the devil. Evil incarnate. Keith sideeyes him suspiciously. Lance is too busy trying to kill Ellva with his eyes. She meets his gaze and has the audacity to wink.  
“I think I will.” Keith says placing his hand on the small of Lance’s back and gently pushing him towards a seat. Lance sits down frowning hard as Ellva and Ellvo high five. Lance glances at Keith, who guiltily looks up from Lance’s legs. Lance leans forward crossing his arms across his chest.  
“Let’s eat hum?” Ellva says standing up and walking behind a wall. She returns with a platter of some dark, cooked animal. Lance can’t tell what it was, only the savory smelling meat it became. Lance mouth waters at the sight, but holds himself back. He doesn’t like the look on Ellva’s face and the fact that they’re practically forcing him to eat. Keith nudges Lance’s side. Again-forcing him to eat.  
“Not hungry,” He mutters pushing his arms against his stomach. Thankfully it stays silent. Keith nudges him again. Lance hugs his arms even closer, adopting his infamous pouting pose. It always worked for cookies when he was nine. Why wouldn’t it work now?  
“C’mon Lance,” Keith says with a poorly concealed grin. Must be him trying to get payback for the taste testing on Belta Traz. Lance sticks his tongue out at him. His stomach rumbles as it fully awakens.  
“Not hungry my chevic.” Ellva mutters. Lance offers a sheepish grin and takes some of the meat. He takes a tentative bite. Then he promptly melts. Holy quiznak it tastes even better than it smells. Heck it might even be better than Hunk’s food and Hunk’s food is godlike. Lance moans grabbing more of the meat. He shoves as much as he physically can, only stopping to swallow. He’s died. He’s dead and this is heaven. He hears Keith laugh to his side and Lance blushes and stops shoveling his face. He wipes at his mouth feeling the grease from the food. Keith chuckles and grabs Lance’s face. He wears a soft look. Keith wipes at his mouth, still chuckling. He leans forward a bit.  
“Aww, The pair flies,” the peanut gallery mutters and Keith leaps back. Keith stands red faced. “Wouldn't you try some of the T’sevell? It’s hard to kill but it’s a real delicacy.” Keith hovers red as tomato.  
“It’s um really good,” Lance helpfully provides feeling red himself. Keith blinks once and twice and then he’s running-legit running (oh how Lance hates to see him leave but loves to see him go)- with a hasty goodbye. The abrupt exit leaves the small group in silence.  
“It’s okay Blue he was totally looking at your legs the entire time.” Ellvo says taking a bite of the T’sevell. Lance blushes but the atmosphere is different without Keith. He doesn’t even notice when the others finish the strange food, caught up in his thoughts of Keith. Always spiraling back to Keith. Down, and down, and down they go. A hand softly touches the skin of his elbow and Lance jolts away from the sudden touch.  
“Relax Blue. You seem to drift away quite often. Are you alright?” Cedro asks lifting Lance up. Lance just nods feeling odd. He doesn’t know the feeling but he doesn’t like it. Lance looks up and is surprised to see the group gone. Well except for Ellva who’s putting away dishes. “Blue we’re going to see Lady Mehallawit, and then spend the rest of the day in the gardens hiding away from everyone Okay?” Cedro speaks slowly and Lance is grateful. He feels a little tired like he just stuffed himself with turkey. All hail Turkey Day.  
“M’kay,” Lance mumbles standing up. Cedro links their arms together and ushers Lance out of the kitchen. His head is a little dizzy, but not in an unpleasant way. It reminds him of the time he had surgery. Floaty.  


“-alright?” Lance tunes in enough to catch the end of the conversation. Surprisingly he seems to be doing that more and more lately. Maybe he should get that checked out. He’d have a talk with Coran later, even though he isn’t a doctor. He does know how to manage the healing pods though so- nurse maybe? Or is that offensive to nurses? Nah Coran’s amazing.  
“-literal alien.” Cedro responds. Lance forces himself to listen to the conversation, shaking off the nice feeling and burying it deep. The pair glances at him. Oh great they’re talking about him.  
“Guys I’m right here, and even though I haven’t been listening it’s rude to talk about other people like that.” Lance huffs turning his gaze straight down the hall.  
“Apologizes Blue. I was just worried. Normally when I eat as much T’sevell as you did I get frezty,” Ellva explains, sounding truly remorseful. Lance coks his head to side. All these unusual words .  
“What’s frezty?” Lances asks, feeling extraordinarily frustrated. Stupid alien words. Stupid alien translator. Stupid alien Keith. Wait….  
“Oh it’s when you.” Ellva pauses. “Mwahehe.” She makes a face her eyes twisting towards her absent nose. She sticks out her tongue a bit, like a cat. If cats had green tongues. Her hands wave to the sides. Lance feels that emotion in his soul. He nods wisely anyway. Cedro turns glancing between the pair.  
“I’ll never understand aliens,” He mutters underneath his breath. Honestly same. Ellva bumps her shoulder against Lance’s. A grin lights up her face, and Lance is glad they share that similarity. Lance shoots her back one as well. This Could Be the Start of Something New starts to play in his head, and he quickly smothers it. Now isn’t the time for memes. Ellva suddenly stops and grabs at Lance’s shoulders.  
“The Reesh! I _need_ to introduce you to the Reesh.” Ellva slaps her head. Lance looks at her vaguely concerned. “Lance I’m sorry to leave you but this is life-changing and I need time to prepare.” Ellva grabs his face and kisses the space between his eyes. Then she’s gone.  
“I didn’t catch any of that,” Lance admits watching Ellva as she sprints away. Cedro shrugs.  
“She’s Terraform, what can you expect?” He walks on, holding onto Lance’s hand. Lance frowns. He _knows_ he has heard that word before. English man. It sucks. Cedro leads him to surprise, surprise another door. “Now behave.” Lance gasps offendedly. “Wasn’t talking to you Blue.” He pushes open the door, light pouring from the opening like a dramatic anime reveal. Lance gasps. This is _waaay_ better than anime! It’s aliens. _*Insert meme here*_ He thinks walking into the gold and chrome -in the future everything is chrome- room. Intricate designs that look suspiciously of naked aliens curve over gilded chairs and in the thing. The thing that curves around the base of the room. Lance brain sputters out, deciding now would be a great time for a vacation. The… baseboard? Maybe. Lance’s eyes roam over the floor, the _polished_ floor-Holy cheese is that his reflection it looks so 3D- and towards the figure in the middle of the room. Who is half-naked, dear lord. Lance looks away cheeks burning. Even though they don’t look _anything_ like humans. Still principle. He assumes the figure to be Lady Mehallawit. Cedro closes the door with a final thud. Cages line the wall, spring to life, flames coiling in their bellies. Aesthetic. The alien lounging in the middle clears her throat.  
“Ah! This must be the great Lady Mehallawit,” she (they???) chuckle holding a glass of a clear liquid. He recognizes it as the liquid from yesterday before the ball. Somewhat. It could be water or even vodka… Gosh he hopes it’s Vodka. Oh right responding. Lance smiles shakily. Social interaction is supposed to be his _thing._ Along with being a cool ninja sharpshooter.  
“Lance actually,” he supplies feeling a twinge of annoyance. Gosh is his name really that hard to remember. Lance as in a weapon, as in a cut. Not that he necessarily minds being a paladin (or an alien title), but… But it would be nice to be recognized as himself for once. The cool, amazing one. Not just a disposable member of the - not now intrusive thoughts.  
“I know Lance. I was just joking.” Mehallawit says standing up. Lance tries not to stare. To be fair, it’s the most flesh (not including himself) he’s ever seen. Well except that time he walked in on his grandmas, mom, two older sisters changing. Worst moment of his life. If he got a chance to redo, he’d definitely back to his poor twelve year old self on the day his innocence was lost forever. Just thinking about it makes his heart twist in sympathy for that poor creature. Oh right, it was him.  
“I must thank you. You helped me achieve a long dream of mine.” Mehallawit stands by a window thing. Windows seem pretty universal so Lance thinks it’s a window. Lance hums in acknowledge and waits for Melly to speak again. “Last night at the party, when you were me. Ever since I was… smaller, and influenced by my parafic reading habits, I always wanted someone to be mistaken for me and have the time of their life.” Melly turns. “Did you?” Lance smiles, brief flash of Keith laughing as they dance together flashing across his mind.  
“Yes,” he says and in that moment everything is frozen but in the best way. “Yes.” He whisper quieter admitting what he tried to avoid for so long. Well avoid is a strong word. Strongly discourage? Whatever, no important. Priorities Lancey. He shakes himself to the present. But metaphorically. It’d be weird if he suddenly just shook like a wet dog. Melly angles her head towards him looking at the floor.  
“My oh my, Paladin come look at this,” Her words soft and humorous. She tilts her head back to gazing out the window. Lance hesitates. The last time an alien did something for him he had to wear a corset. Never going to let that go. Nevertheless he steps forward towards Melly side. The window has a nice view of a manicured lawn, green surprisingly, and the beginnings of a forest-not green. A party gathers in a loose circle near the very edge of the alien trees, some eve loitering on the trunks. Lance quickly spots the familiar armor of the blade and feels a sense of relief that they’re getting along. Lance draws his eyes to the circle and raises a brow in confusion as he sees Keith. The aliens around seem to be celebrating, and if Keith’s posture is anything to go by, so is he. Melly laughs, not unkindly.  
“I thought you might want to see your lover.” She says drawing away. Lance glances at her but remains at the window.  
“He’s not my lover.”  
“Your future lover then. It matters not. “ Melly waves her hands and sits down. Lance frowns at her words. It does matter. It really does. “After all,” she continues, “You care for him don’t you? You love him?” Lance looks at the ground. Does he love Keith…? He can’t-Keith is hot-headed, blunt, so-much better than him, a great swordsman, a really dorky adorable… Lance blushes and Melly seems to take it as an answer. “Then he is your lover in a sense.” Lance doesn’t think it works that way but whatever. Cedro sits next to Melly holding three glasses in his hug hands.  
“Thank you,” Lance murmurs taking the glass. He sits on the end of the couch-thingy. It feels like a couch. Nice and comfy.  
“I want to apologize Lance. I know this whole situation is new to you, but I need your help.” Melly says after a drink. Lance glances at her face, the serious way her nose scrunches up. “As I’m sure Kratektro as briefly mentioned the clothes you wore yestereve was from the Reshark, an oppressed group of people- refugees actually- who have made the Western Mountains their home. They’re quite a pleasant people, but their ways are peculiar for many. It doesn’t help that they’ve been falsely accused of many attacks against Yllevens. In reality it was a religious extremist group.” Melly sighs. “The faction refuses to acknowledge this fact and encourages the continued discrimination of the Reshark.” Melly reaches out and for Lance’s hand and holds it between her own. “I know it’s not your politics but will you help them?”  
“I’m afraid there’s not a lot I can do,” Lance confesses although he feels compassion to those strangers. He knows what it feels like to be prejudiced against. Melly smiles, a bitterness twisting in her eyes and adding years to her face. In that moment, she appears hundreds of years old. It quickly passes.  
“Oh Lance, you can do more than you realize.”  
Cedro stands and lifts Lance by his arm. Melly bows her head respectfully.  
“Thank you Paladin. Thank you.” Then they’re gone, fleeing to the gardens. 

 

Down hallways, and rooms. Once they literally jumped off a balcony but Lance doubts it’s the right route but instead Cedro just being dramatic. Finally, they wind up in the “gardens”. Yeah it’s not a garden. It’s a maze- and not even made of bushes. It’s made of stone.  
“Really?” Lance asks tapping the stone and looking up. It doesn’t even go that high. Seven feet maybe. Lance is disappointed. He loves flowers. Especially purple, or even red ones. Cedro leads him past the boring, boring walls finally to an old bench carved with flowers. That has to be the cruelest joke anyone has ever played on him.  
“This garden sucks,” Lance says taking a seat. It’s true, with the only living thing besides the two aliens (one alien, one Ylleven) an alien bird thing perched on the top of the wall. Cedro shrugs.  
“The gardens are a memorial to all those who have died for the faction, generation upon generation are coded into the surface. But I agree. It is a really depressing Garden.” Cedro shrugs again leaning against the wall. The bird flies off, chirping against the magenta sky. They sit there for a bit in silence until the temperature drops suddenly leaving Lance a shivering puddle of cold. Cedro ushers Lance back up the hallways- the correct ones this time. Lance stills in the middle of a long hallways causing Cedro to nearly tip over.  
“Look Cedro. What are these?” Lance asks pulling him over to look at beautiful red crystalline flowers arranged in a vase.  
“I’m not sure Blue.” Lance squints at Cedro suspiciously. “What? I can’t know everything. I’ll just have to look it up. I’ll tell you morrow.” Lance shakes his head adopting a dramatic pose.  
“I don’t know if I can trust you anymore,” He fake sniffs faking his eyes. Cedro rolls his eyes and bumps his shoulder just like Luis used to do. His mood drops like that. Like a motorcycle off a cliff….which reminds him of Keith and his mood perks up a bit. Dang. He’s like a trained puppy.  
“You’re weird,” Cedro declares tugging Lance forward once more. Lance scoffs but in a good way.  
“Said the pot to the kettle.” Lance smirks and Cedro looks worriedly at Lance.  
“What..? Oh! Is this like a Reesh? Ugh you and Ellvatrish, two penos in a kernel.” Lance shakes his head.  
“Nope. It’s similar to two penos in a kernel.” Cedro’s face crumples his nose twitching as he tries to make sense of Lance’s words. His own mouth moves as if silently going over Lance’s words. But not exactly Lance’s words because they’ve been translated so it makes it look like a badly dubbed cartoon.  
“Oh!” He exclaims snapping his fingers in front of Lance’s face. “I understand!” Lance laughs at his excited expression. “Well I still don’t understand the meaning of your saying but I assume it is sarcastic.” Lance just laughs.  
“Oh Cedro, you’re just like Veronica.” Lance says and at Cedro’s puzzled expression elaborates further. “My sister. Oh man, there was this one time I accidentally mailed her pet turtle-”

 

“And that’s how I got my three older siblings grounded for six months. It was great,” Lance says waving his free hand around. Cedro laughs wiping his hair in a way that Lance thinks is similar to wiping tears away.  
“Honestly how you even managed with t-” Cedro cuts off. Lance runs into his shoulder.  
“Hey what-” A large animal sprawls out in front of Lance’s door. Feathers, bright gaudy red feathers sprawl from its shoulders, a black pointed snout pressed into the floor. Three pairs of sharp clawed legs twist together in a mess of coiled muscle. It’s an intimidating picture- well it’d be even more intimidating if the thing was alive.  
“What is it?” Lance whispers peering around and over Cedro. At least he thinks it’s dead. It isn’t breathing but you know aliens.  
“It’s a dead T’sevell.” Cedro says inching forward to poke it’s snout. Rows of red, sharp teeth greet them. As Lance steps to the side he can see that the entire chest of the creature has been removed down to the spine and ribcage. It’s quite frightening. A small plate holding a small pile of cook meet lies smack in front of Lance’s door. A feather, held down by a small card, rests right beside the meet. Confused Lance swoops up the card careful not to stare too much at the empty chasm where its organs once lay.  
_To Lance._ The first line reads. _With love._ Lance looks at Cedro. Who shrugs. The traitor. The handwriting seems familiar somehow but Lance can’t place. He knows he’s seen it before. Cedro shouts drawing Lance’s attention. The dogish alien crouches next to the platter of meat a pleasant almost drugged expression on his face. A piece of the meat lays in his hand half eaten.  
“Hey that’s mine!” Lance exclaims as Cedro stuffs the rest of it into his mouth hurriedly. Lance snatches the plate away from the greedy alien. Dang it. It’s his.  
“So’y, mch’in or ‘oi’on,” Cedro mumbles around the food in his mouth. Lance rolls his eyes and opens the door having absolutely no clue what Cedro was trying to tell him. “Sorry, was checking for poison. You’re good.” Cedro says making a beeline straight for the T’sevell. Lance lifts the plate away from the excited alien.  
“Nope,” He pops the p and the Cedro collapses dramatically to the floor. The feather floats nearer to Cedro’s hand because of his movements. Lance picks it up and runs his finger over the vibrant feathers. It kinda looks like the feathers he’s wearing. “I’ll give you another piece.” Immediately Cedro perks up. If he had a tail it would be wagging. “If you tell tell me why there’s a tesevell?- a Tesevell right outside my door- and” Lance shoos away Cedro’s creeping hand. “And help me turn this feather into an accessory. I want to wear it.” It changes shades of red as light hits it at different angles. Black lines run near the shaft in triangular patterns.  
“Yes, yes of course. Gimme gimme,” He says like a toddler, even going as far as to make the (apparently universal) sign for gimme. Lance tsks at him, eyebrow raised. Cedro whines. Legit whines.  
“No. Bad dog.” Cedro flops over Lance’s leg dramatically watching (crying actually- holy quiznak ) as Lance picks up a piece of meat and bite into it. Lance closes his eyes as a relax from the amazing flavor. It’s just...so good. Amazing.  
“Ugh. Jerk.” Cedro growls and stands up. “I don’t know why the T’sevell is there. I may look like I know everything but I assure you- I do not. Buuuuut,” Cedro adds on as he notices Lance a bite an apathetic look on his face. “If I had to guess, purely hypothetical here, I’d say someone is trying to court you.” Lance stills. _Court??_  
“Yes. You know. Bringing gifts and trinkets to show you’d be a good lifemate. Etc. Etc.” Cedro mumbles trying to get the biggest piece. Oops must’ve said that aloud. Lance breaks off a (infinitesimal) piece for Cedro. Cedro stares the piece and looks up affronted.  
“It’s this or nothing.” That seems to shut Cedro up as he snatches it.  
“Nope. This is good. This is great.” Lance lays on the bed, the plate balanced on his stomach, and Cedro chilling by his feet. Lance passes more pieces to him because despite what Veronica might say he is not pequeño monstruo. Cedro is more than pleased at the turn of events. He plays with the feather in his large hands bending it into shape. They talk and all is calm. 

“Here you are,” Cedro announces later, clipping the feather into his hair. Lance smiles and breaks the last piece in half. Cedro happily accepts it and curls up in a small little ball. Soon the alien is fast asleep.  
_Just like a puppy,_ Lance chuckles standing up from the bed and pushing open the door to his room. Another plate of the T’sevell lays in place of the corpse with two more feathers by its side. No more notes. Lance picks up the plate and carries it back into the room. He places it on one of the many small tables. He takes out the feathered clip, careful not to tug out his hair. He places the other two by the feather. The note still in hand he walks to the bathroom.  
_With Love._ Lance tucks the note behind the creams and splashes water on his face. A soft splash draws his attention. A large circular tub takes the space to his right. Where a wall used to be. Fricking bathtub.  
“YESSS!” Lance screeches jumping into the water. His clothes immediately get soaked through with water. Lance exhales as he sinks into the heavenly water for the first time in… Months? Lance sits up. How long has he been in space? How long has he been separated from his family? Did they have a funeral for him? Lance’s breathing starts to speed up, and hot thick tears gather in his eyes. Lance shakes his head staring at his reflection in the cleary water physically trying to will away the tears. “It’s okay, Mr. Holt went back to Earth and everything will be okay.” Lance whispers to himself, drawing his legs up to his chest in an attempt to comfort himself. _What if things aren’t okay._ No stop it. Lance blinks hard hoping it will distract him. _What if Holt didn’t make it._ No please, Lance begs with himself. It’s so quiet, and the pressure of everything weighs heavily on Lance’s shoulders breaking everything he’s tried to build.  
“Hey Lance,” a voice calls from the room. Ellva. “Lance-,” her voice trails off as the alien takes in the sight of Lance sitting a warm tub of water. She walks closer and places a hand on his shoulder. Oh quiznak he didn’t realize he’d been crying. He quickly tries to wipe away the tears. “Hey it’s okay Lance.” She stands up and gets a blanket. She pulls him up and wraps the towel around him. The fluffiness reminds him of when his mama would wrap him in the fluffiest, warmest towels in the world after a bath and read to him until he feel asleep.  
“Thanks Ellva,” He whispers as she sits him down and pulls something up on the holoscreen. She grins rubbing Lance’s head affectionately.  
“Of course. I did promise you I’d show you the Reesh.” Lance smiles. They both know that isn’t what Lance meant. Lance lets it slide. Ellva pulls up a picture of an alien holding a position similar to the chicken dance.  
“Okay this is from a popular vid…”


	3. Salmon For Desire, Ultra Violet For Quiznak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance gets freaky with the spices and pays the consequences

Lance yawns extracting himself from the pile of alien limbs from the impromptu sleepover. Faint sunlight streams in from a window to his right, specks of dust dancing in the thin yellow beams. Like an omen. A suspicious yellow-themed omen. Like magic, a knock resounds from the door. Hesitant but with a surprising amount of force behind it. Lance knows immediately who it is.

“Hunk!” He cries ripping open the door and flinging himself into the arms of his friend. It’s only been like two days but it feels like forever and a half. He says as much. Hunk chuckles in response.

“I missed you too buddy,” He says. Of course he did. Lance sniffs against Hunk’s shirt, half holding back tears and half inhaling Hunk’s scent. It’s not weird if you’re in space.

“Bro,” Lance sniffs-more teary now. Hunk sniffs back.

“Bro.” They both nod, a solidarity unparalleled by mortal men, and an understanding that only true bros could understand….Frat bros?

“Oi-some of us are sleeping,” a grumpy voice calls from the pile of blankets that make up Lance’s bed. Lance shakes his head.

“Not my fault you lazy bones couldn’t go to your own room.” He snarks feeling much better after seeing Hunkalicious but…

“I’m going to get some food,” he declares half ignoring Hunk’s fake outrage at not being invited to the sleepover. Hunk perks up immediately.

“Food-gah dude I fully plan to capitalize on this instant. No food goo for a _week._ Lead the way bro,” Hunk says pushing Lance forward. Lance rolls his eyes but leads Hunk to the kitchen anyway. Turn left here and…. It’s not it…

“Was it left, forward, forward, left or forward, left, forward left?” He mutters to himself backtracking. He takes a right to negate the left and then another. “Wait..”

“Dude is this it?” Hunk asks gesturing to the kitchen. Lance blinks in surprise. “You’ve always had an uncanny sense of direction. Even if _you_ don’t know it.” Hunk sasses waltzing into the kitchen like he owns the place. The Squad is nowhere to be seen. Pity actually. Lance would love to give Gonasaur a hard time after the shameless flirt fest yesterday. (More like get some tips.) No matter. Lancey Lance is a man on a mission. He opens a cabinet and pulls out a long container. He opens it sniffing the contents. It’s pinkish with dark red swirls in the mix. Lance dips his finger in it and licks it. His mouth immediately begins to tingle and warm. Lance gags and puts it back, the tingling feeling spreading down his throat and up around his nose.

“Gah,” Lance chokes out hands coming up around his throat. Hunk notices and starts to panic rushing around for something. Hunk seems to find it and returns carrying a glass of water. Lance chugs it, the warm feeling dissipating.

“Thanks Hunk,” Lance rasps his throat oddly tight. Hunk weakly smiles.

“Don’t eat strange food!” He chastises but lets the matter go. Lance opens another cabinet and opens another container of food. Lance once again sticks his finger in a weird container of food. He licks it clean and this one actually tastes pretty good. Like pineapple pizza.

“Hunky this one!” Lance says excitedly picking up the unexpectedly heavy container. He staggers, righting himself right before he faceplants. Hunk picks it up and sticks his hand inside. The strange spice falls like grains on a beach. Hunk licks his palm. He tilts his head.

“Not really a food but this does taste good.” He mutters looking around. Lance places it on the counter. He opens a cabinet an assortment of various blocks. He takes the first one down—a familiar clear liquid. Lance glances at Hunk before he guzzles down the liquid. It’s warm and tingly. Exactly like he remembers. His head gets clearer, and warmth floods his veins.

“Lance look at this! Chicken nuggets!” Hunk says. Lance turns, container still in his hands. Hunk hold purple chunks of meat shaped into little roaring animals.

“That’s funny Hu-” Lance lurches forward, pain erupting in his gut. Lance sinks to his knees with a groan. His stomach explodes in tingles, pain, and itchiness as he pushes on it.

“Lance! Lance what’s wrong?!” Hunk shouts placing a palm on Lance’s shoulder. Lance shudders at the touch. His throat closes, itchy feeling spreading into his neck and shoulders. His stomach shudders trying to get rid of the foreign food within it. He dry heaves on the ground unable to throw up as his throat is closed.

“Stay there!” Hunk shouts running away. Lance wheezes irritably hands wrapped around his throat as if that’ll make it better. Where would he go? Lance leans forward as he dry heaves again, salvia bubbling on his lips. He licks at it, tongue swollen. Pain shouts his stomach again, running up and down his torso in a variety of patterns. Someone runs to him, feet pounding on the floor. Lance doesn’t pay them much attention as he can feel the itch and the pain crawling past his neck onto his chin. It slowly crawls up around his ears and then up further. It spreads from his stomach and lower into the tops of his thighs pausing. Someone grabs Lance and shakes him- a Ylleven. They shout something but the ocean crashes within Lance’s ears. Lance’s leg twitches flinging out to the side, tingly feeling turning into painful shocks. Lance’s eyes roll back and he’s _falling—_

 

Lance wakes up in a what he swears up and down is a hospital. It’s got the whole white, everything white, theme and everything. There’s even an annoying heart monitor beeping at him and judging his life choices. Which is fair. Lance twitches slowly trying to shake off the feeling of a drug induced sleep. He moves his left hand to his face, something scratching at his lip. His numb fingers hit a thin plastic tube inserted into his nose. Lance swallows, his throat constricting painfully. He winces as the sleeping drug wears off even more. He twitches his right hand trapped within a sleeve connected to the hospital cot’s metal bed frame. Thin tubes connect to his veins, a messy blotch of bruises up and down. His fingers are taped together, an orange tag hanging off his pinkie. Alien symbols line it so Lance doesn’t even bother to read it. He moves his free hand onto his chest with a sigh. Immediately he hisses in pain, skin irritated. Lance lifts the hospital blanket staring at the red expanse of his chest before beginning covered in gauze. Where he stomach is nestled a bump covered in medical tape and gauze. Lance touches it, crying out in pain as uncomfortable hurt shots through his body radiating from the bump. The bump connects to a long tube that falls out of the blankets and off the bed. Lance leans against the pillow with a groan, clicking his tongue. His mouth feels gross, his hair feels oily and there’s a vague sense of soreness in his legs. He closes his eyes—to sleep or to ignore it he doesn’t know. A person—or alien—enters the room, a door hitting the wall with a distinct thud.

“Here he is. Please don’t take too long he is still recovering. You don’t have to call us if he wakes everything is taken care of,” They say professionally. Lance figures it must be a doctor. A small voice murmurs their thanks before taking a seat next to Lance. They take Lance’s free hand. Their hand is firm with callouses by the thumb and on the fingers. Lance fights off a grin, a warm giddy feeling bubbling in his chest.

“Lance,” They whisper and a shiver involuntarily runs down Lance’s spine. Fire and sparks. “Lance,” he whispers again. Lance discretely tries to bury his face into the pillow. “Lance I know you’re awake,” Keith admits squeezing Lance’s hand for good measure. Lance opens one eye staring the raven haired angel ( _he is so shackled)_ in front of him.

“How’d you know?” He says or attempts to say. His throat feels raw and honestly it comes out as a garbled groan. Lance scrunches his nose at the pain and inability to communicate. Keith smiles affectionately.

“You snore really really obnoxiously when you’re asleep,” he teases. Lance huffs sticking out his tongue. He doesn’t _snore_. He had his tonsils removed. Keith snorts thumb pressing the space between Lance’s eyebrows. Lance scrunches again, feeling the movement of Keith’s thumb over his moving muscles. Keith’s thumb presses hard into the space before moving in small circles outward.

“There. Aren’t you supposed to the beauty guru defending against age lines?” Keith snickers gently thumb moving out to sooth the lines on his forehead.

 _Screw you Keith_ , Lance thinks fondly moving his hand clasping Keith’s. Keith brings their hands towards him and rests it on his forehead. The moment is peaceful. The pair inches towards each other slowly. Lance’s eyes slip closed waiting.. What is he waiting for?

Lance groans opening one eye to see Keith a good five feet away from him bright red like well...Red.

“I-uh-Shiro!” Keith sputters and literally runs out of the room. Lance blinks once. Twice. He process exactly what happened. An ugly feeling grows in his chest, roots wrapping around his lungs.

“KEITH!” He screeches (emphasis on the screech). He coughs harshly into his hand glaring at the door. He tosses a pillow at it and crosses his arms. Fire boils in his veins and tears threaten to slip down his cheeks. It reminds him of the first time his girlfriend broke up with him-but somehow worse. _Why is it worse-it’s not like they were dating._ They thought causes the ugly thing to twitch and grow even more suffocating him.

 

“Um. Glad to see you’re awake Blue Paladin Lance,” An alien says. Lance turns eyes wide filled with unshed tears. The doctor (or nurse) alien holds the pillow Lance just threw at the door. Well. That isn’t embarrassing at all. “My name is Kellso, I am a certified Ylleven doctor-although you aren’t much of a Ylleven are you?” Kellso chuckles striding across the room quickly. Lance laughs politely and then coughs again.

“MMM,” He hums trying to convey his politeness through the coughing.

“Please don’t do that- you might cough up blood.” Kellso says calmly. Lance stares wide eyed at them horrified. Kellso turns to the machines and looks surprised. “Oh don’t worry, if you don’t use your throat it can heal properly and you won’t cough blood.” Like that makes him feel sooo much better.

“Oh dear. I don’t have much experience dealing with such emotional aliens,” Kellso sighs.  They fiddle with something on the side of Lance’s bed and if that doesn’t subtract four years off of Lance’s life with the sudden realization he’s surrounded by an actual alien crashing down on him. Crazy Uncle Joe’s abduction story plays over and over in his head.

“Blue Paladin I need you to calm down,” Kellso says four fingered hand reaching for Lance’s shoulder. Lance jerks back at the touch-unfamiliar and alien. He can’t. Horror stories flash in his mind, wholly unpleasant scenarios involving so many knives and scalpels and tubes and-

Fuzzy.

Fuzzy.

Nothing.

 

“-but the hungry little caterpillar was still hungry!” A voice exclaims drawing Lance out of his sleep. He blinks, eyelids fighting against the bright lights. “Nice to see you awake sleeping beauty,” the voice says again. Lance lets his head fall to the left, a gremlin sitting within arms distance of him. Lance gurgles throat pleasantly numb. Pidge frowns adjusting her glasses.

“Don’t do that. If you need to talk to me I have a tablet you can type on.” Pidge says hesitantly placing a hand on his shoulder. Lance grins dopely, his head all fuzzy. He wraps his hands around Pidge’s closing his eyes with a puff of air. He tugs on her hands once and then twice.  Pidge removes her fingers and shoves something smoother underneath Lance’s hands. He shakes his head. No he didn’t want this. Too strange, too heavy, too much.

“Piii” He croaks out trying to communicate. He drops the thing in his hands. “Piii.”

“No Lance. Here type them out.” Pidge says putting the smooth thing right back in his hand. She takes his hands and presses it against the screen. “Here. Type here.”

He shakes his head, “Noo.” He doesn’t want it. Why can’t she understand he doesn’t want it.

“Lance shake your head yes or no. Do you want the tablet?” Pidge asks grasping the situation better. Lance shakes his head no. The strange smooth thing is taken out of this hands. He almost coos, relaxing against the pillow. “Do you want anything else?” She asks holding a tablet. He almost wonders where it came from but he honestly doesn’t care.

“Yemf” He says earning a scowl from Pidge.

“Stop that please. I’ll sneak you a chocolate everytime you don’t speak okay?” Lance loves chocolate. He nods along, the fuzziness in his head making everything distant and thoughts slip through his hands like...like..

“F’d go,” He mutters aloud drawing Pidge’s attention. She frowns deeper. Oh right chocolate. Quiet. He mimics zipping his lips. She fiddles with something by his head. He wants to know what it is. But like he wants chocolate more. He reaches out for Pidge’s sleeve and tugs on it.

“What is it?” She asks still fiddling. Lance frowns. He tugs again as if that will magically tell her what he wants. “Lance I don’t know what you want.” Lance opens his mouth to speak but closes it. “Look I’m just fixing your pillow.” Lance smiles. That’s what he wanted to know. His head lolls to once side, eyes lazily regarding Pidge. She places a hand on Lance’s head and it feels so good and cool. “Oh Lance—Lance you gotta stay awake!” She says shaking him. He doesn’t want to stay awake, he’s too sleepy. “Lance!” Pidge shouts her voice warbling in a most peculiar way. Her voice fades and Lance closes his eyes. Just for a second.

 

The lights are too bright. Lance blinks his eyes open with a hoarse groan. He turns his head against the too bright lights looking for some relief.

“C’mon Lance you gotta wake up,” a voice mutters. Lance cracks open one eye and sees green. He flops an arm in their direction. The light recedes and Lance closes his eyes again. The light is back again. He whimpers, hand exhaustedly flicking at the light.

“Is he up?” A deeper voice asks. Lance cracks open one eye whining louder. He wants to sleep, why won’t they let him sleep? Tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

“Barely,” the green says. Lance tries to turn away from the light but it follows him.

“I can tell.” The other one says as Lance lets out another whine. It breaks and hurts his throat but his wants the light gone. A hand is placed on his shoulder, firm but nice. The other one, red as far as Lance can see. The red moves his hand to Lance’s throat. The green moves the light and Lance whines once more. The red applies light pressure against his throat effectively stopping the whine. Unfair.

“Open your eyes Lance,” the Red says. Stubbornly Lance squeezes them shut even tighter. It doesn’t help him sleep-only serves to wake him up even more. A disgruntled grunt comes from the Red, further away. Lance opens one eye hissing at the sudden brightness.

“Ffffff,” Lance groans accidentally hitting his face with his hand. The red chuckles- a decided male voice. His throat throbs at his words and makes Lance all the more determined not to speak.

“Hush,” the voice says, Red. Obviously. Lance lets his limb drop and smack the Red in the face. The Green giggles. Lance cracks open an eye, blinking furiously. Tears fall onto his cheek because of the brightness. The green-Pidge, moves the light away from him. Lance blinks open his other eye. Lance numbly wipes his face, his memory returning slowly. The important bits first.

“How’re you feeling?” Keith asks like the idiot he is. Lance raises his free hand and flips him off. Pidge laughs earnestly at that. “Right sorry dumb question.” Lance turns his head so his cheek is resting on the pillow. He gazes at Keith looking him over critically. The former red paladin blushes under Lance’s scrutiny but remains sitting.

“Oi your alien attendant came by earlier with some flowers. Said your, and I’m quoting him, ‘Lifemate left these at your door.’” Pidge says drawing attention to her and a bouquet of dark purpley blue flowers that almost seem to glow.  Lance blushes gathering the flowers from Pidge. He buries his nose between the petals sniffing their soft scent. The petals caress his face like silk or a nice pool.

“You really like them?” Keith asks looking pointedly away from Lance. Lance smiles softly nodding. Pidge moves to Lance’s side and does something to the side of his head.

“There you go- another gift from your attendant. I’ll be heading off now. Keith you’re in charge.” Pidge flashes the peace sign before walking out of the hospital room leaving the pair behind. Lance reaches his hand up to his hair, feeling the familiar hair clip. Lance turns to Keith who looks ready to combust.

 _Cute._ Lance inwardly cooes at the hapless ex-paladin. Lance flexes his taped fingers experimenting with the give. Unfortunately his arm remains cuffed to the railing no matter which way he moves.

“Here,” Keith mutters quietly snapping the cuffs off. “Don’t need that anymore.” Lance rubs his wrist with his free hand shooting Keith a grateful look. Keith doesn’t look at him, too interested in the plain bedspread. Lance pushes Keith’s head up, making him look him in the eyes. Lance can see him gulp, eyes flickering to the feather in Lance’s hair. Lance makes grabby motions with his hand trying to motion for the long forgotten tablet. Now that he’s more awake and less drugged he wants to communicate properly. Keith’s face scrunches into his trademark scowl, confusion dancing in his violet eyes. Lance takes his hand tracing T-A-B-L-E-T on Keith’s skin. Keith’s scowl only deepens.

“What? Here Pidge left her tablet so you can just type what you want me to get.” Keith says brandishing the tablet that Lance wanted in the first place.

 _Dum-dum._ Lance write flipping it so Keith can read it. Keith frowns looking into Lance’s laughing eyes before a small smile emerges on his face. _It’s what I wanted. T-A-B-L-E-T._

“You got it didn’t you?” Keith says resting his chin on the bed. Lance sits up a little more.

 _What are you doing here mullet?_ Lance cocks his head to the side. He’s genuinely curious and not all a bit salty.

“I was worried. Not everyday a teammate almost dies because he got freaky with the spices.” Keith ducks his head to hide a growing smile. Lance lightly hits him faking offense. A grin tugs at his lips despite his best efforts.

 _And?_ Lance types out an eyebrow raised. He knows there’s another reason. There’s reasons upon reasons upon reasons for doing anything!

“Why can’t I just be concerned for a teammate?” Keith says brow furrowed. He crosses his arms and physically leans back as if trying to escape from the conversation.

 _Aww you’re worried. That’s so cute-_ Lance backspaces the word cute- _unkeithy._ Lance frowns tilting his head. Keith, unbeknownst to him, leans over his shoulder watching Lance’s struggle.

 _Adorable_ -no.

 _Dorky_ -no.

 _Smoking hot_ \- now he isn’t making sense!

Lance settles on weird, flipping it to show Keith but-he isn’t there. Lance glances around looking for the mullet. A low laugh by his ear makes him jump in fright. He tugs nastily on the tubes connection him to the monitors, making them, and him, screech. Keith covers his ears from the loud noise yelling.

“Lance! Are you okay?” Keith voice cuts through the noise letting a heated knife through butter. Lance can’t help but to listen even if his ears are trying to kill themselves.

Lance makes a rude hand gesture in place of a response. The tablet is gone and with it Lance’s means of communicating with Keith.

An alien bursts through the door hurrying to Lance’s side. They are followed by several others varying in shape and size and species. They push Lance onto his back ripping back the blanket and exposing his stomach. Lance hisses squirming against their touch. The first alien who Lance assumes is the head nurse glares at him.

“Why is he free?” They demand directing their question at Keith. “Where are his cuffs?” Keith grabs Lance’s head steadying him before answering the alien’s question.

“We don’t chain innocent people.” Lance can’t see Keith’s face but the haughty look on the alien’s face completely disappears replaced by...is it fear?

“Keep him still,” they instruct turning away probing at Lance’s stomach. Lance shudders as pain ripples from the touch. Lance arches to get away from them.

“Lance, baby, I need you to stay still okay? I know it hurts,” Keith mutters next to his ear. Lance feels goosebumps form as he suppress a shudder. The aliens twist and pull doing...something. It hurts. Lance whimpers lifting his free hand to Keith’s head. Lance pulls down burying his face in the soft black locks. He muffles his whimpers, staying as still as possible.

“That’s it baby, you’re doing great,” Keith reassures lifting his face up a bit. “How much longer?” He snaps at the alien. Keith’s chest rumbles. Lance silently chuckles through the intermittent pain. They twist the tube coming right out of his stomach sharply and Lance screams. The world fades to the background as pain washes over his being.

“-Lance baby,” Keith says his voice the first thing that returns. Lance rubs his head to reassure him. His body slumps back. The alien and their posse is gone.

“You’re awake good-you scared us for a little bit there baby,” Keith says rubbing his hands over Lance’s arm. Lance nods rubbing his eyes. He feels so very very tired.

“You can go to sleep now. The doctor cleared you before he left. When you wake up we can check out okay?” Lance hums eyes already slipping closed. “Sleep baby.”

 

The final time Lance wakes in the hospital it isn’t from an unnaturally bright light source but rather because Lance feels someone shift beside him, their arm over his chest. Lance opens his eyes blinking as he sees Keith curled by his side, his black hair tickling Lance’s neck. Completely self-indulgent Lance nuzzles Keith’s hair sighing contently. The arm flexes before relaxing. Lance coos and Keith sleepily repeats the noise. Lance stops his ministrations surprised. Lance coos again and Keith rumbles, a soft noise exiting his mouth. It’s been long since they left Earth but Lance is absolutely positive- _pawsitive_ -that Keith is purring.

Lance finds it strangely adorable.

The purrs up in intensity as Lance works his fingers through the fluffy mullet. Lance coos again, the sight just too adorable for his poor heart. Keith purr-coos right back at him. Lance keeps cooing giggling more and more as Keith sleepily repeats it back to him.

“Lance?” Keith questions awoken but Lance’s uncontrollable laughter. He rubs his eyes moving the arm from Lance’s waist. Lance nuzzles Keith’s hair laughter subsiding.

“Did I wake you?” Lance rasps- his throat sore but not unbearable. In fact, his whole body is sore but not unbearable. Keith yawns.

“Maybe,” Keith shifts hesitantly reaching his arm over Lance’s waist. When Lance doesn’t respond Keith drops it. “Whenever you’re ready we can go baby.” Lance hums twisting his hands in the mullet. He never wants to let go, never wants to get up. He’s content with just laying here in Keith’s arm. Keith starts to purr again, eyes closed. Then he stops abruptly and rips himself away. Lance whines.

“Sorry-just-ah-forget about that. It’s nothing,” Keith’s face burns red, and Lance stifles a laugh. He raises his arms and pulls Keith back to his chest.

“Shhhh,” He hums closing his eyes. Keith slowly relaxes, muscles softening against Lance’s hands. Keith shifts pulling Lance to his chest instead of the other way around. He begins to purr again, the rumble reaching deep into Lance’s bones comforting him. Keith racks his fingers through Lance’s hair. Lance goes boneless enjoying the pressure on his head.

Eventually though they do have to get up, and it’s definitely not because a nurse kicks them out. Keith pulls him out into the hallway.

“Oh! Wait just a minute,” Keith says rushing back into the room leaving Lance alone in the hallway. A few aliens give him weird looks as they pass. Keith hurries back into the hallway holding the bouquet of dark blue glowing flowers from his secret admirer. Keith tucks one of the largest blooms behind Lance’s ear placing the bouquet out of sight somewhere. Lance is more concerned with Keith than the flowers. Keith gives him a once over, a smile tugging his lips upwards.

“It suits you,” He compliments lacing their hands together. Lance blushes at the contact, looking away. The flower glows bright too as if sharing Lance’s blush.

“Keeiiith,” Lance whines after gaining control of his massive blush. “You can’t just do that! Think of my poor heart!” Lance jokingly complains clutching his heart with his free hand. Keith smirks squeezing Lance’s hand.

“Damn you’ve discovered my murderous plot to kill you with compliments,” Keith chuckles. Lance rolls his eyes knowing for a fact he has a dopey fond smile on his face. Keith pulls up their combined hands up and presses a kiss to the back of Lance’s hand. Lance burns.

“Well played mullet, well played,” Lance murmurs shakily. Keith smirks and begins leading a dazed Lance away. He gathers himself as Keith leads down hallways.

“Where are we headed?” Lance asks after the fifth consecutive left turn.

“It’s a secret babe,” Keith teases with a downright scandalous wink. Lance grins at it, the thought that the emo space cat was actually flirting causes his stomach to flip. Yet at the same time it sends chills down into his bones.

“You spend too much time with me, I’m rubbing off on you,” Lance chuckles in his patented self-depreciating way. Keith squeezes his hand borderline uncomfortable, tensing. Ticks pass by in silence.

“Don’t say that. Don’t you ever say that again.” Keith hisses, his voice thick. Lance lowers his head. The air between them burns with something unreadable—something that Lance really doesn’t want to look into. Or acknowledge because if he does it becomes real.

“Sorry,” Lance mutters. Shame coils in his gut at the fact he did this, he ruined this, and he doesn’t know how to fix it. It only makes his self-deprecating thoughts grow like dandelions in his mother’s garden.

“We’re here,” Keith announces dropping Lance’s hand. He doesn’t turn around which makes something nasty settle in the pit of Lance’s stomach. He ignores it. Obviously.  

“Whoa,” Lance exhales turning slowly. Flowers of all shapes and sizes litter the grounds and climb up the sides of what Lance assumes to be a greenhouse. Vines twist and turn together up the walls, their leaves thick and heavy. Strange blue dots line their pale green stalks. Keith places a heavy circle on Lance’s head. Making a questioning noise he reaches up to feel it. Heavy blossoms lay on his head, their petals soft to the touch. Keith tucks the blue flower from before into the crown.

“There. Perfect.” Keith whispers more to himself than anyone else. Lance blushes feeling weird, too hot but not in an overly unpleasant way. Keith hides away hiding his face. “There’s more over here,” he says tugging Lance deeper into the alien garden. Some flowers glow when they sense them coming, others twist tightly into pointed cones. A brave little flower inches towards Lance hand. Small little vines curl on Lance’s pinkie finger hugging it. Lance cooes cupping the plant closer to him. It wiggles.

“Keith this is my child Squiggle Jr.” Lance says staring at the adorable baby plant. Keith huffs, laughter building up. He clutches his stomach bending over. Lance starts laughing too. It takes a bit before they can come down from laughing so hard.

“You’re too adorable Lance,” Keith says his face a pretty pink. Which causes Lance to flush as well.

“Keiiith,” Lance whines hiding his grin in his hand. Keith chuckles gripping Lance’s wrist gently and leads him further into the flower garden. Squiggle Jr gently twists over their intertwined hands. Keith squeezes Lance’s wrist, glancing back. His violet eyes glow in the foreign setting and _Dios Lance is gone._

“C’mon just a little further baby,” Keith promises walking faster. Lance lets his free hands trail over the soft leaves of the flowers they pass. It’s like soft velvet brushing against his palm. He wishes he had a blanket made of those leaves. A flower blanket. Keith snorts, and Lance realizes that he probably said that out loud. “You can be king of flowers,” Keith says voice softer than the flowers Lance was just touching.

“Would that make you Queen of Flowers?” Lance asks. Keith shakes his head slowing down a little.

“Personally I’d rather be a prince but for you I’d been Queen.”  The horribly sappy line has Lance blushing even fiercer, butterflies dancing in his stomach. Little sparks fly from where he touches Keith.

“Oh god Keith that was awful,” Lance says unable to keep the grin off his face. At this point why would Lance even want to? He’s having fun on this...dare he say...date?

“You loved it, don’t lie,” Keith teases right back. Not that Lance minds too much, he loves when Keith teases him. It’s the basis of their relationship after all.

“Heh...maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. I’ll never tell you,” Lance says squeezing Keith’s hand. In retaliation Keith squeezes right back. Lance, in defense of his honor, squeezes back again. They go back and forth, turning it into a competition.

Lance wins of course.

Keith stops lifting his free hand, dragging Lance’s attention from their intertwined hands and his beloved child Squiggle Jr to the biggest tree he’s seen in his life.  Keith, gently closes his mouth and drags his thumb—sadistically!—over Lance’s lower lip before letting his hand fall.

“Eyes on the prize Lance,” Keith says. Lance huffs internally because externally he cannot move. The shock wears off quickly, the familiarity of teasing replacing it. So, very obviously Lance turns to stare at Keith raking his eyes up and down.

“Oh I am,” Lance flirts throwing in an over exaggerated wink for good measure. Keith covers his mouth red lining his cheeks, as laughter spills outwards. Lance grins turning to stare at the tree. Warmth fills his chest, blooming like flower (heh) and spreading like sunshine into every part of his being. He turns back to the tree just to keep himself from randomly combusting into a fireball. “What is this?” he says after a few minutes of staring at basically an oaky wall.

“I’m not sure honestly. All the aliens I talked to about this tree just giggled or winked at me. I think it’s one of those...love trees?” Keith says leaning forward to trail his fingers over the bark. Lance can see foreign words etched into the sides.

“OH! You mean those… trees with the hearts and people’s names inside? I think those are called Sweetheart Trees?” Lance scrunches his nose. It sounds right but Lance isn’t sure.

“Doesn’t matter. That’s what they’re called now.” Keith leans forward until he’s crouching on the ground. He gets out his little Mamorite knife and starts carving on the trunk of the tree. Lance crouches by him and slowly watches the letters form.

K-L-A-N-C-

“Klance?” Lance questions. “It’s just my name and a k.”

“It’s our names smashed together?” Keith says hesitantly carving the E.

 _A couple name cute._ “Why is it just my name and a K then Keith?” Lance says. Keith starts carving a heart around it. “Why not Laith?”

Keith blinks in confusion. “But I like your name and you—I like you. Laith just doesn’t...feel right.” Keith shakes his head getting more confident. “Klance is us, it’s teasing and fighting and staying strong. Laith is...more pretentious? It’s hard to explain.” Keith rubs the back of his head unaware of Lance swooning in the background. You can’t blame him okay, even though the name is stupid一because let’s be honest here it is—it’s also one of the sweetest things anyone’s ever done—said?—to him literally ever.

“Keith, that’s so stupid,” Lance finally gets out. Keith immediately scowls. “But that’s also the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me,” He quickly gets out before Keith does anything that Lance will regret. Keith lets his scowl fall turning into a soft blushy mess. Lance takes the opportunity to hug him, tucking his head against Keith’s neck.

“Your welcome,” Keith croaks out, his voice rough. Lance chuckles as Keith’s arms come around to wrap him tightly. Keith’s arms are warm and sturdy, muscles apparent through the stupid red jacket. All of Keith is warm, a fire in the dead of night surrounded by purple galaxies and inky darkness.

“I’m starving,” Lance says breaking the silence. Still he makes no effort to move, enjoying it as Keith’s hand travels up and down his back. Keith chuckles, his whole body moving with the vibrations of it. It has no business making Lance happy as he is.

“We probably should get some food. I can’t have you almost dying on me again,” Keith’s words carry a slightly bitter edge. Lance feels incredibly guilty at having put Keith through that. Lance knows he’d be devastated.

“Well I guess you’ll have to be in charge of feeding me then.” Keith just grins, an excited spark in his eyes, like Lance just said yes to a marriage proposal.

“I’ll take good care of you,” Keith promises and Lance doesn’t doubt him for a second. After all, Lance would trust Keith with his life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back! Sorry this took so long-it was not supposed to. Enjoy~


	4. Golden Spoons Beat Silver Spoons Every Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The universe really, really hates Lances but everything's good because Keith is here.

Lance learns later, as Keith literally spoon feeds him the most delicious soup he’s ever had, that he spent close to fourteen hours in the hospital wing. Almost a whole day was lost because Lance decided to eat the equivalent of a bomb. 

“Though now everyone is strangely awed by humans—calling us basically ‘Those who consume’ so I guess thanks for that,” Keith jokes wiping away some food from Lance’s cheek. Lance smiles, mouth full. He swallows before answering because his mama raised him right. 

“You’re welcome~” Lance sing songs before eating another spoonful of soup offered by Keith. It’s almost as good as the T’sevell, but not quite. Keith hums hand resting on his chin taking a bit of the soup himself before Lance another. Lance should think it’s gross but it’s  _ not  _ and he’s honestly just so far gone it’s not even funny anymore. Too soon the bowl is empty. Even though his stomach is full, he still wants the God-like soup that he would most definitely sell his soul to it if he could. 

“Lords!” An alien bursts into the room smoldering. His clothes are charred and falling off around his shoulders. Deep purple marks are around his face and shoulders festering. Both Red and Black paladin turn concern etching their faces. “Please. There has been an attack,” They say before collapsing. Lance immediately rushes to the alien’s side ignoring the god-like soup to assess the damage on their ally. Keith is by his side every step of the way. Lance gently cradles the unconscious alien, positioning their head in his lap. Their skin is pale blue and glimmers faintly like the surface of an opal. Two pairs of ears are located on the side of his head pointed and long. The second pair smaller under the first. The alien shudders, soft moan slipping from their lips. Keith frowns maneuvering his arms underneath the alien and hoists him up with ease. 

“Let’s hurry,” Keith says his forehead creasing, his lips settling into a thin line. Lance internally swoons over his serious expression and the fact he can easily lift the alien. 

Lance nods stiffly, shaking such thoughts from his head. He has a job to do, and he’s not going to be distracted. He can write terrible poems about Keith’s muscles later. “Lead the way Team Leader.” Lance smirks when he says it, the familiar headspace coming easily. Everything seems sharper, colder, more distant. Dissociating? Maybe. 

Keith sets a brisk pace, his shoulders squaring up and his spine straightening. Lance can see Keith slipping easily back into the role of leader. Like a fish to water. Lance distances himself from such thoughts focusing on getting the alien to the hospital. Keith lets Lance take the lead, only a step behind. 

_ Left.  _ Lance turns his feet automatically guiding him to his destination.  _ Right. _ He doesn’t hesitate, pushing himself forward.  _ Right. _ He knows where to go.  _ Left.  _ He can do this. 

He strides towards the door and pushes it open, the room white and pristine and meh. Actually the whole hall is white and pristine. Should have been a dead giveaway.  

“Should we find the main office?” Lance asks looking around. There is no nurse, or doctor aware of their presence. If they left them here they’d die. 

“No,” Keith says laying the alien on top of the blankets. He presses a button on the wall and holds. A red bulb turns on above the alien’s head. It makes them look even sicker. Keith gently tugs Lance’s hands away from the alien’s forehead. Lance blinks unaware that he put them there to begin with. 

“Come on Lance. The doctors know someone’s here. We have to go,” Lance shoots the alien one last look guilt welling up in his throat. It doesn’t feel like they helped him. “Lance,” Keith commands softly, his face crumpled in understanding. 

“I know, I know,” Lance mutters taking Keith’s hand and squeezing it for comfort. Keith squeezes back. It grounds him. Lance inhales deeply forcing himself to focus on what needs to be done. Keith gently starts leading him, the pace brisk. Keith seems to know where he’s going, pulling Lance until they emerge outside. The lawn shifts in a dazzling array of colors as Lance moves across it, blinding crystalline colors that would be beautiful in literally any other setting. Dark green, and lilac purple trees decorate the skyline, growing darker as they go up. Faint smoke curls in the far right  above a gathering of dark trees and Lance can see Yellow flying in circles around it.

“Keith!” Lance calls sprinting towards the source. Keith understands sprinting beside him. Keith and Lance side by side. “Where are the lions?” He knows they parked near the palace but not which direction they should run. Without their armor they also have no way of contacting their team. Keith doesn’t answer right away concentrated on guiding them towards the smoke. 

“...somewhere.” He gets out. Lance stops, staring at Keith in shock. Keith blinks at him a frown on his face. 

“That’s it, we need our lions,” Lance takes charge pulling Keith back towards the colossal ambassador palace. Keith huffs but doesn’t complain. They quickly cross the lawn and Lance maneuvers around the gigantic building. The lawn opens up wider, small thickets of pink thorns growing in the middle of the landscape. Small blue bells sway atop the thicket moving with the breeze. Lance falls straight in the middle of one because he wasn’t paying attention. 

The thorns prick uncomfortably through his jacket and shirt, tearing at his flesh. Keith is useless, laughing so hard he might stop breathing. Lance grumbles, hissing as thorns dig into the soft flesh of his hands. He pushes himself up, stopping only when he hears a loud rip. Keith grows quiet. 

“Lance,” Keith says quietly, his voice all soft and sorry sounding. Lance turns, and takes a deep breath in. His piece of his jacket lays in Keith’s hands. The rip must have been from that. 

_ ‘Hey Kiddo going to Veronica’s school huh? You gonna be a hotshot pilot some day?’  _

Lance takes the piece from Keith’s hands. 

_ ‘Duh. I’m going to be the best pilot ever! I’m going to the end of the universe!’  _

He holds it gently in his hands. 

_ ‘Well an adventuring spaceman needs to stay warm. Why don’t you take this?’  _

Keith opens his mouth starting to say something. 

_ ‘Your lucky jacket Luis?’ _

“Lance I’m-” 

_ ‘Of course kiddo. You’re going to need it more than me. Besides I’m lucky enough. I don’t need that jacket anymore.’  _

“It’s not your fault,” Lance replies feeling numb. “We should keep moving.” Lance stuffs the piece in his pocket. 

_ ‘Besides nerd, it’ll be a little piece of home to remember us by when you get all famous and big-headed.’  _

Lance moves quickly from the thicket, lips pressed in a tight line. He doesn’t have time for any silly jackets. Lance doesn’t realize he’s started sprinting until he reaches the entrance to the ambassador’s palace, with a humble yellow paved road leading away from it. He doesn’t stop either, sprinting down the road until his lungs ache and a large rock has grown inside his throat choking him.  Keith yanks on Lance’s arm stilling him. 

“There,” Keith says curtly obviously uncomfortable with Lance’s emotional instability. Still he tries, letting his hand slip onto Lance’s back. Lance takes a deep breath around the lump in his throat letting himself be grounded by Keith’s strong hands.  _ Don’t think about his strong hands.  _

Lance shakes himself, pushing himself away from Keith and sprinting to the imposing figure of Red. Red attempts to ignore his presence, irritation spilling across their bond ruining the effect. Lance apologizes sitting at Red’s controls. Red lets his discontent be known. He wants to fly and he wants to fight  _ now.  _

“I know boy. Hold up.” Lance takes the controls, Red roaring as he lights up. Black roars in response moving onto his feet. Lance grins as Keith’s face pops up on his dash. It feels strange on his face. Unnatural even. Impossible. Lancey Lance is great at interacting with people. 

“Nice of you guys to  _ finally  _ join us,” Pidge sasses over the intercoms opting not to turn on the video setting. Hunk pops up, concentration alight on his face. 

“If you guys could hurry, we can’t find Allura anywhere and the fire is spreading!” Hunk interjects forcing everyone back into the situation at hand. Red and Black lift off, their paladins working the controls, flying closer to the others.

“Hunk have you tried smothering it?” Keith asks, switching solely to the intercom. Lance does the same, his screen removing any sign of the others except their voice. 

“Yes. We’ve tried limiting the fire to one area, smothering it using vines, rocks and trees. We’ve done everything!” Hunk counts on his fingers all the different ways they’ve tried to put it out. He throws up his arms exasperated. 

“What about water? Is there a water source nearby?” Lance asks watching the smoke curl against the orange sky. Not waiting for an answer he fiddles with Red’s controls until a map of their surrounding area pops up on screen. 

“There is one around, but it’s full of cynianthum-hydrate. Poison. If we use it, there’s no telling the damage it will cause on the local plant life.” Pidge counters. Lance can she her throwing plants from her lion trying to kill the fire with green-life. The plants disintegrate before they can even touch the flames. Hunk rips chunks of earth and toss them at the fire. Like the plants they disintegrate before they can even get close. 

“Damn,” Lance curses wiping the sweat from his brow. Even from high above the flames he’s still hot. Lance clutches the controls of Red circling above the fire. It snaps off, flying through the air. The part starts to burn the forest in the opposite direction, a good 100 feet away from the nearest edge of the fire. 

“Pidge, Hunk don’t let that new fire spread,” Keith barks flying in circles around the fire. “Lance can you and Red get closer to the flames?” Lance descends gritting against the heat. He’s from Cuba after all, he can handle a little heat. This is nothing. 

Lance repeats that mantra as the controls sear his flesh, his sweat evaporates, and everything burns unpleasantly against him. Red slows his decent, and Lance breathes out through his nose. 

“Zzz-ce-zzz-in.” His comms crackle, the roar of the fire blocking the signal. It snaps and pops and crackles consuming Red’s hull. The heat amplifies unbearably. Lance screams, his flesh searing and twisting  _ and melting oh god please make it stop pleasemakeitstopmakeitohgodplease-  _

A roar louder than the flames, someone’s yelling, no screaming, and suddenly the pain begins to lessen. Lance open his eyes, when did he close them, the world blurry and unfocused. A black blurb flies overhead carrying him. Red whimpers in Lance’s mind, licking his wounds, anger bubbling in his veins as the bite of Red’s own element. Red pokes at the frayed edges of Lance’s mind, his indignation melting into an unbreakable will.  _ How dare the fire _ ? Under Red’s prompting, Lance dives into the flames, the red glow lighting his cockpit. Lance swears he hears someone calling his name before he’s screaming back in hell, and then nothing. 

 

Lance feels the presence of Red at the back of his mind, a fire that causes his skin to ache and burn. Another presence joins the lion, something cool and soft.  _ Blue _ . Lance sobs in relief as her presence cools the burns. Red and Blue both shift worriedly, and Lance laughs at them. 

_ I’m good. I’m good.  _ He tells them but they don’t believe him. 

_ Poor cub,  _ Red cooes at him, the one with the strongest bond out of the two of them. Blue gave up communicating with Lance when she rejected him.  _ Please wake up.  _

Lance tilts his head confused.  _ Am I not?  _ Red rumbles at his paladin fading into the background.  _ Please don’t leave me, _ Lance pleads trying to run after the lion but he can’t move. 

 

Lance bolts up, a screaming leaving his throat as his skin moves. Remnants of the fire burn along his body. 

“Shh, you’re safe.” Someone whispers pressing Lance’s head close to their body. It’s warm and solid, but nothing like the fire. Lance breathes in and out stiffly. He gradually melts into their arms tucking his face near their neck. They smell like sweat and smoke, but underneath smells of warmth and metal and spice. It’s pleasant and Lance doesn’t want to move like ever. But he has to. 

Slowly, painfully, Lance moves away from the figure, cracking opens his eyes. Red armor, a mullet. Keith. Of course it’d be him. 

“Lance?” His voice is soft. Lance moves to stand but falls. His legs are unable to support himself. Keith catches him, gently holding Lance as he gets stock of his surroundings. Healing pods line the wall. Lance realizes he’s in the castle, and he was in a healing pod. He rubs his numb fingers over his arm, the healing suit strange against his frazzled nerves. 

“You know Lance I really think the universe is out to get you,” Keith chuckles, his voice quivering. Lance shakes his head. Keith, despite literally everything else, will be the true death of him. 

“What happened?” Lance croaks his throat sore. He clears his throat staring at Keith through his lashes. Keith cups the side of his face running his thumb over Lance’s skin. 

“We’re not sure. You plunged back into the fire and then suddenly it was gone.” Keith frowns, brows furrowing together. He looks puzzled, as if Lance is some mystical riddle that he needs to figure out. Lance leans into Keith’s side, letting the exhaustion turn his muscles to jelly. A light fever rages inside, biting at his bones. 

“That’s good isn’t it?” Lance mutters into Keith’s neck, unbothered by their close range. If Keith is he doesn’t say anything. 

“Not when we find you unconscious in your lion. You were screaming Lance, and the pods kept rejecting you.” Lance grows silent processing the information as pain presses against his ribs. Makes sense why he aches and it feels like the fire is using his body as a battlefield.

“Makes sense why I feel like crap,” Lance jokes wincing when he pushes himself upright. The heat congregates around Lance’s heart. 

Keith stares at him, brow furrowed, concern etched into his wrinkles. “Lance,” he says slowly. Chills run up Lance’s spine, as Keith’s cold words splash over him. “You were rejected from the pods because they couldn’t find anything wrong.” It takes a few ticks for Keith’s words to sink in. 

“What.” Lance bolts upright, fighting off vertigo. “What.” Keith’s words register just fine, but Lance still doesn’t understand.  _ Nothing wrong?  _ There’s a fire eating at his skin, reducing his bones to ash.  _ Nothing wrong?  _

Keith’s thumbs swipe the crease between Lance’s brow flat. Lances relaxes letting the worry and confusion fall off his face. It gnaws on his ribcage but he ignores it, letting himself be soothed by Keith’s gentle touches. Not healthy but neither is his life right now. 

“Hey Lance,” Keith coos, his voice softer than the softest silk. It rolls over Lance like a gentle wave, watering his soul like its been wandering in the desert for days. He’s thirsty. “It’s going to be okay.” Lance clutches Keith’s wrist like he’s drowning and it’s the only way to air. 

“Keith, the universe is trying to kill me and it’s okay?” Lance huffs, his voice weary. Keith means well, he does, but meaningless ‘it’s okays’ are not what he needs. 

“You’re safe now aren’t you? You’re heart’s still beating, you’re still breathing aren’t you?” Keith tosses back his voice still soft but firm as well. Lance nods tentatively. “Then that’s enough isn’t it.”

“Where did my adorable stuttering baby-faced Keith go?” Lance teases leaning on Keith’s shoulder. He stares up at the red paladin, his face soft. Keith chuckles. 

“Feeling better Loverboy?” 

_ Yes,  _ Lance wants to say because he is better. His bones still feel like they’re melting, and his skin is uncomfortably hot but he feels better. Just being around Keith is enough. For now. 

“No I need you to hold me for five more minutes,” Lance says instead burying his face in Keith’s jacket. Keith, for some strange reason, lets him. 

 

The pair shows up in the midst of intense celebrations looking like death. Well Lance does. He feels awful, sweat pouring down his neck despite the chilly wind, and his left hand won’t stop shaking. Keith leads him to the center table forcing down in the nearest available seat next to Hunk. He sits right next to Lance, keeping his hand on Lance’s shoulder throughout it all. 

“Lance?” Hunk asks leaning close to him so that others won’t be able to see him. Lance appreciates the gesture. The upbeat music does nothing to help his aching body. Instead it sends spikes of pain timed just right to the bass of the music. Lance huffs, tired and annoyed. 

“Side effects. Couldn’t have a party in my honor without me though,” Lance mutters offering a weak smile. Shiro looks at him with gentle eyes, concern etched between his brows. 

“Lance it’s okay if you want to go lay down, I’m sure we’ll be fine without you,” Shiro tries to get Lance to leave but Mama always said that Lance was more stubborn than a donkey. Lance grits his teeth. 

“I’m  _ fine _ ,” Which is a lie, but Lance isn’t going to let a fun night pass him by him. He clutches his fork preparing to stab the next person who suggests he shouldn’t be here. 

“Wow Lance no need to be so  _ fiery _ ,” Pidge says and immediately everyone groans small smiles alight on their faces. They don’t like it, Lance can see it in the way Hunk side-eyes him and Shiro looks sadly at his salad. 

“No need to be  _ green with envy  _ Pidgeon,” Lance throws back at her, and for a second he’s thrown back to the castleship goofing off with his family. Pidge grins diabolically at him. 

“That’s enough guys, no need to get up in arms about it,” Keith says his face neutral as he plucks food from the feast onto Lance’s plate. Pidge blinks pushing up her glasses. 

“Did he just-”

“Greetings Protectors!” An alien cuts through their conversation and the homely illusion is ruined. They stand tall and thin, with three eyes on their head and two mouths filled with sharp teeth side by side. Lance doesn’t want to know how that works. 

“I humbly want to introduce myself, I am ambassador of the Elkin,” The alien bows eyes never leaving the group. It’s unsettling, but Lance has to remind himself of cultural differences. “I’ve heard great tales of Voltron but I never thought I’d see them myself someday.” They clasp their hands together. “You’ve greatly impressed me and I’d love for my people to see your greatness in action.” Allura jumps forward, eager to show her diplomatic skills. 

“Of course! We do many shows for the collation, I’m sure we can stop by your planet for one of them,” Her face lights up as she speaks. She quickly adjusts her features to be more diplomatic. 

“I’m afraid you’ve misheard me. I don’t want a show, as frivolously entertaining as that is. My people want to see you in action.” Allura wrinkles her nose still keeping her diplomatic mask on. The group is silent, letting Allura take the lead. 

“I’m sorry but are you suggesting we fight?” Allura says her voice becoming colder with each word. The alien doesn’t seem to pick up on this shift. 

“Yes M’Lady, it’d be a great honor for the paladins to participate in our gladiator matches showing your true prowess and if my people like what they see we’ll join your coalition-” Allura cuts off the alien standing up tall. She draws attention away from Shiro who clutches his silverware at the mention of gladiator matches. 

“We are not some prancing monkeys you can order about for your amusement. We will not fight for your amusement or anyone else’s. We are the protectors of the universe! Our past accomplishments should be enough for your people.” She levels him with an icy glare. Hunk huffs and looks down eyes wide. 

“You can’t talk to me like that,” the alien ambassador hisses standing taller. Allura glares at the offender even harsher. 

“Get out before I show exactly what I’m capable of in combat.” The alien is quick to leave, tripping over themself spewing out small threats. Hunk takes a sip of his drink, and the entire group just sits in silence. Then they all burst out laughing. Allura pouts at first before joining in. 

“Their face!” Pidge chokes out before laughs. It causes the group to enter another fit of laughter. Allura wipes tears from her face. 

“Did I use the earth phrase right?” She asks still chuckling a bit. Hunk nods a wide grin on his face. 

“Absolutely perfect princess,” He says. Coran grins. 

“That wonderful princess, much better than your father’s first couple months as a diplomat,” Coran muses playing with his mustache. Coran launches into a nostalgic story that has the group breaking out in laughter so hard they can barely breath. Coran gleams with pride, eyes shining as he looks upon the laughing paladins. Another alien braves the paladin’s table. This one bears a gift. 

“My humblest greetings Paladins but I have a gift for you!” They begin speech obviously practiced beforehand. “Well not for all of you-just the blue one. The red one? Blue-red one?” They stutter cocking their head to one side. Their skin glows amber in the pale light, purple light running up and down their arms like veins. They have two midnight black horns that emit faint purple light. Lance smiles at them. It’s honestly adorable. Their eyes dart to Lance and they take a step back. 

“Oh, are you sure you’re alright blue-red one?”  They ask worry dripping off their face. They shake their head falling into a more neutral expression. They’re young. Lance offers the alien a smile. 

“I’m fine, but not as much as you,” Lance says with a wink. The alien stares at him for a second before bursting into laughter. 

“You are wonderful!” They laugh clapping their hands together. A wide grin settles on their face. They offer their gift, a smile on their face. “Please accept my gratitude blue one.”

Pidge takes the gift as she’s closest to the alien. She passes it to Coran who subtly scans it with a device. They finally gift it to Lance who places it carefully on the table next tohim. “My name’s Lance.” He tells the alien with a smile. 

“Quella,” The alien bows a smile on their face. “My people are of the star system Coolat. You saved them about two pheobs ago.” Quella bows. Allua nods. 

“I remember your people! How are the repairs going to the Grand temple?” Allura asks jumping into the conversation. Quella turns to her surprised. A few other aliens, emboldened by Quella’s action swoop in to talk to the free paladins. Quella talks to Allura for a few moments before a loud alien yells out their name. They bow to Allura and Lance. 

“I’m sorry my father is calling me. Thank you for this lovely visit,” With that Quella scurries over to their father leaving the paladins with the others. Lance lays his head on his hand half listening to an alien brag about its pilots skills to Keith. Keith’s left eye twitches as he keeps trying to end the conversation. His grip on his silverware gets tighter and tighter. Laughing silently Lance places a hand over Keith’s own, rubbing his thumb across Keith’s tense knuckles. Almost immediately Keith relaxes. The alien sees this and picks up waving their hands around. 

“Loverboy!” Allura calls an evil glint in her eye. “In your expert love opinion would a pair be life partners if they constantly revolve around each other, always stick together, spend most of their time together, soothe each others worries and calm the other via touch consistently?” Allura cooes her eyebrow cocked. Lance isn’t sure what she’s getting at. 

“They sound hopelessly in love. So yes.” He says which makes Allura wiggle her eyebrows even more. Damn Allura what do you want?

Lance is startled out of that conversation by Keith slamming his knife into the table and standing up. He leans into the alien’s space. 

“Take that back,” Keith hisses, eyes almost glowing. The cheery atmosphere comes to a halt. Lance sucks in a breath moving to Keith’s back before he can even think. A rush of vertigo unbalances him, but Lance ignores it. 

“Keith,” Lance draws out, his voice quiet. His breath puffs next to Keith’s ear. Keith shivers leaning into Lance’s touch. Keith still doesn’t back down. “Keith please.” Lance can feel Keith gritting his teeth. 

“Not until he takes it back,” Keith bites out baring his teeth in a beastly way. Twin white fangs gleam in the golden light. Lance shouldn’t find that as hot as he does. Lance shouldn’t find a lot of things as hot as he is. Someone should really kinkshame or something. 

The alien chortles and hisses, saying something in its natural tongue that the translators don’t pick up on. “No I won’t. _ ”  _ The alien hisses storming away. Keith pushes forward and Lance latches onto his arm weakly. 

_ No. You can’t leave me like this.  _

“Shut up,” Keith hisses tugging against Lance. He doesn’t break despite Lance’s weak grip. Lance buries his head against Keith’s back, arms coming to wrap around around him. 

“Please Keith. Don’t.” Lance pleads. Something overtakes takes him them, pushing out the next sentence. “For me.” Lance can feel Keith stiffen before shifting back. He leans against Lance just barely. Just enough to convince Lance that Keith won’t do anything drastic. Like murder. 

“Go before I change my mind and gut you like you deserve,” Keith turns wrapping his arms around Lance and pulling him close to his chest. The unexpected hug causes Lance to fall into Keith’s chest.  Keith doesn’t even stumble. Slowly, waiting for Keith to break free, Lance wraps his arms around Keith. Allura wolf whistles behind him. Damn he really regrets teaching her that. 

“Keith,” Lance begins trying to keep his voice firm. He fails. Like everything revolving Keith the fondness just slips out. “Keith, buddy, we can’t gut foreign ambassadors okay?” Keith grips Lance’s jacket tightly. 

“Even if they say they’re surprised the galra haven’t killed you yet? Even if they’re so condescending with their privilege-” Keith mumbles into Lance’s jacket. Lance warms, not at the thought of the alien saying nasty things about him, but at the thought of Keith ready to protect him so readily. 

“Babe, I’ve been through worse. I can take it. You can’t gut anyone that says mean things about me.” Lance draws back cupping Keith’s face to stare into his eyes. Keith frowns, face turning into an adorable pout.

“GET SOME!” Pidge yells startling back paladins apart. Lance shoots a glare at the small green paladin. She giggles shooting Keith a wink. Lance watches the beet red paladin stumble back into his chair tugging Lance when he takes too long. The vertigo comes back stronger this time. Gently Keith pushes a glass of clear liquid. Lance drinks it greedily, drops dripping down his chin. Keith absentmindedly wipes them away. The rush of relief is intense and all consuming. Lance slumps against his chair with a sigh. 

“Pidge you're on Keith babysitting duty next,” Lance says feeling a lot less like he’s about to kneel over and die. She sticks out her tongue at Lance and the pair of them laugh as Keith crosses his arms with a huff. 

Allura clucks trying so hard not to laugh. “What did the alien want?” She says fighting a smile. 

“That prissy snob-” Keith bites out before Allura is laughing hard. 

“Sorry, sorry it’s just the Earth expression silver spoon in mouth popped into my head,” Allura waves through her laughter. The others join in. 

“It’s born with a silver spoon in their mouth,” Pidge tries to explain but no one hears her over their laughter. The image of the snobbish alien born with a spoon in his mouth is too comical not to enjoy. When they all calmed down Pidge stands swishing the glass in her hands. 

“To us! The Defenders Against Prissy Spoons!” 

“To Us!” The paladins cheer downing their drinks. Pidge sits down a smirk on her face. 

“If silver spoon is someone born to privilege, what do you call us who rise to it?” Pidge winks twirling her silverware in hand. 

“Hard working,” Shiro says like the Space Dad he is. Hunk throws an alien vegetable at him. 

“Obvious we’d be  _ golden spoons _ ” Hunk says holding up his golden silverware. Everyone groans and Shiro throws back the alien vegetable. 

“That’s never going to catch on,” Lance teases wrapping his finger around Keith’s knee. Subtly, you know. 

“Keith are you okay? You look like you’re going to die,” Pidge asks a thing eyebrow raised over her glasses. 

The black paladin is bright as a beet, the blush all over his face. “N-o, I’m -I’m go-good,” Keith stutters and cracks something horrible. Lance slowly removes his hand, but before he can get too far Keith grabs it and holds it close. 

“Y’all are weird. We know you’re holding hands.” Pidge snarks sipping her drink. Lance can feel the heat rising to his own cheeks. Hunk wolf whistles. Lance, while he likes attention doesn’t like  _ this _ attention.

“Sometimes I worry for the universe,” Allura sighes. Pidge and Hunk immediately start complaining how unfair that is.  Allura laughs waving her hand. 

“Joking,” she impishly grins. Lance uses his free hand to chuck a vegie at her. 

“No more throwing vegetables.” Shiro says shaking his finger at the paladins. They all look at each other, grins growing. “No whatever you’re think don’t-” Shiro doesn’t finish that sentence before being buried alive via vegetables. 

 

Slowly the food dies down, and the music comes to a halt. Lance leans sleepily on Keith’s shoulder, dozing in and out of consciousness. Each time he feels himself falling, he shakes himself awake. He’s too stubborn to actually go to bed despite being half asleep for hours now. 

“Lance come on party’s over, let’s get you to bed.” Keith’s breath tickles the shell of Lance’s ear. Lance gives him a dopey grin eyes slipping shut. 

“‘Mnot sleepy,” Lance yawns curling his hands into fist on Keith’s shoulder. His grip is weak with sleep, but it feels good. 

“Why is a sleepy Lance like a kitten?” Pidge murmurs in the background. Her voice is loud in the quiet. 

“You’re thinking toddler.” Hunk fires back. 

“”M’not a toddler,” Lance pouts, eyes still closed. Keith chuckles. 

“Baby, c’mon. You’re falling asleep on me.” Keith runs his fingers through Lance’s hair and down his cheek. It’s not fair that Keith is so soothing. 

“Just resting my eyes,” Lance says making no move to actually do anything. Keith stirs and Lance clutches his shirt harder a whine slipping from his throat. 

“Lance is a toddler all the time,” Pidge says retreating from earshot. Lance frowns at her words but is more preoccupied with Keith. 

“I’m not leaving you,” Keith promises voice low. Keith sneaks his arms around Lance and hoists him up bridal style. Lance wraps his arms around Keith’s neck and relaxes. He opens his eyes and blinks back the fuzziness to stare at Keith. 

“Promise me?” Lance asks voice so heavy with sleep he isn’t sure he actually said those words. Keith’s eyes sparkle in the light but maybe that’s just Lance.  

“I promise.” Lance’s eyes fall shut of their own accord, and he lets out a pleased noise at Keith’s promise. 

The walk back to Lance’s bedroom is shorter than Lance remembers it being, and that is most definitely not due to the fact he dozed off for a bit. Lance can feel Keith walk towards his bed, and he squirms tightening his hold to almost unbearable.

“Lance,” Keith says dropping Lance’s body onto the bed. Keith lifts one hand and pries off Lance’s grabby ones. Keith walks away and Lance whines hard and loud to bring him back. He doesn’t come rushing back. Lance sit up, his mind fuzzy from lack of sleep, and the world blurry from something other than being tired. Tears fall down his face freely as he sniffs. 

“Lance?!” Keith voices calls and suddenly he’s there. “Baby what’s wrong?” Keith’s hands cup Lance’s face. They’re warm, a little rough, and big. Lance nuzzles into them, happy now. The tears continue to well up in his his eyes. 

“Don’t leave me,” he chokes out closing his eyes. Keith sighs. 

“Of course not baby. I was just getting your skin care stuff.” Lance sighs nodding happily. He lets Keith slowly apply his face care regime with little compliant, opting to stay pliant in his arms. Keith leans him back against his pillow, as sleep finally overtakes him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I refer to Keith as both red/black paladin due to the fact that he's the pilot of the black lion but wears red armor. Lance is also the red/blue due to the same reasons. 
> 
> I intended for this to be slowburn. It isn't. Enjoy anyway ;p


	5. Two in the Hand, Two in the Cradle

Waking up well-rested is one of the better things in the world, Lance finds. Stretching your arms letting your bones crack, feels so wonderful when sleep isn’t permeating every inch of your mind. Waking up well-rested with someone else is something even better. 

Lance turns his arm hitting something warm and big. Lance smiles the memories of last night fresh on his brain. Embarrassment colors his cheeks a pretty red, but he doesn’t let that hold him back. Keith’s breathing shifts, and Lance can hear him groan as he stretches. 

“Morning,” Lance hums eyes still closed as he tries to pull Keith closer to him. Keith acquiesces with a small chuckle, tucking Lance’s head under his chin.

“Mm wanna be the big spoon this morning?” Lance teases softly, sleep clinging to the edges of his mind making everything quiet and peaceful. Keith snorts, moving his hand into Lance’s hair rubbing by his ear. 

“Maybe I just wanted...to do this!” Keith licks his finger and shoves it inside Lance’s ear. Lance shrieks flailing his skinny limbs to get away. Keith laughs boisterously as Lance pouts and wipes his ear. 

“I’m divorcing you,” Lance says getting up from the bed and yanking the blanket from Keith. 

“Babe we aren’t married yet,” Keith manages to get through his laughs weakly trying to get back the blanket. Lance huffs wrapping the blanket around himself. 

“Well  _ darling  _ ~” Lance says in a posh accent, twirling right into the door. Lance moans as Keith wheezes in the bathroom. A tentative knock sounds on the door does nothing to quiet the noisy black paladin. Lance opens the door tentatively. He spots the familiar face of Cedro. 

“Oh hello.” Lance mutters trying to block Keith from view. Doesn’t do much when he’s still laughing his head off. 

Cedro weasels his way into the room, a surprisingly slippery dog-alien. He nods at Keith who lays spread eagle on the bed, sheet covering his crotch. Lance cocks an eyebrow at Keith. Keith, who is in his undershirt and jeans. Not naked in the slightest.  

“Hello Lance and Lance’s mate.” Cedro says ignoring the clothed weirdo. Keith does a two fingered salute but doesn’t move. 

“Not my mate,” Lance interjects before Cedro can continue. 

“Yet,” Keith says stretching back pushing the sheet off him. If Keith was actually naked, actually Lance doesn’t want to think about Keith naked. Let’s just skip that. 

“Whatever,” Cedro sasses waving his hand. “I’m here to prepare you, and take you to Lady Mehallawit, who requests your presence.” Keith raises an eyebrow but doesn’t move. Cedro makes his way over to the bed and sneezes at Keith. Half sneezes half coos? It’s weird and alieny. 

To Lance’s great surprise, Keith does it back. The weird alien sound. Cedro looks vaguely pleased with himself. Lance barely restrains himself from rolling his eyes. Patience yields focus. Lance breaths out squeezing his eyes shut. Sometimes he’s too old for this. God is this what Shiro feels? Lance resolves to get the man a fruit basket at least. 

“Cedro don’t encourage him, he’s a menace.” Lance says trusting himself to finally speak. Keith scoffs in the background twisting himself up in the sheet with a haughty look on his face. A faint red blush decorates his cheeks but there’s a steely resolution in those eyes. Lance internally swoons. That look is so hot. Keith’s mouth twitches upward and Lance feels like a bucket of ice was dumped straight down his spine. Oh no. 

“Well last night was fun,  _ dahling _ , you know where to find me if you want to go again,” Keith teases with a salacious wink before slipping out of the room. A second passes before a very pale hand emerges to dump a sheet and then closes the door. 

“Your mate is weird,” Cedro remarks laying something out on the bed. Lance is too much in shock to respond, his mouth hanging open. Lance slaps his cheeks to confirm, he isn’t dreaming. 

“Cedro I’m not sure who that was,” Lance admits when Cedro gets fed up and herds him to the bed. 

“That’s your mate, the red one,” Cedro says obviously done with Lance. Lance shakes his head. 

“No Keith is awkward and.. And…” Lance throws his hands out, flipping them in the air. “Y’know?” Cedro turns him around pulling off Lance’s shirt. Lance lets him because he can only have one mid life crisis at a time. 

“Eh the Galra tend to emulate what they think their Mate will like best when they're courting them. If you think it’s that weird you should subtly tell him you prefer his natural state,” Cedro pins the alien shirt on and holds up some pants. Thank god. Pants. 

Lance absentmindedly grabs it. “That doesn’t make sense! He isn’t, what was it you said? Courting me? That’s ridiculous!” Lance babbles as he makes his way to the bathroom. Lance can hear Cedro groan as he locks the door. Lance doesn’t even look at the pants as he puts them on, mind swirling with Keith’s general weirdness. The dancing, the awkwardness, the bold teasing that’s completely out of character with his personality. 

“Oh my god!” Lance proclaims as he bursts out of the bathroom. “Keith is courting me! What do I do?” Lance turns to the dog alien tears welling in his eyes, panic written plainly on his face. So much panic it makes Cedro pause mid bite. He sighs getting up and fixing Lance’s clothes. 

“Nothing. Just try and be subtle. You know, a nudge here and there to what you really want and your mate will pick up on it. Galra courting is all very subtle. Incredibly annoying actually.” Cedro rolls his eyes. “It’s about proving they’re good at attending to your needs to something like that.” Cedro steps back clapping his hands together. “Oh I almost forgot!” Cedro spins around and riffles through the bag he brought. He produces an ornate crown, blue and red gemstones intertwined with silver vines. A large blue jewel rests in the front. 

Lance dips his head and lets Cedro place it on his head. The alien attendant flutters around fixing things, until he steps away with a grunt of approval. Lance risks a glance in the mirror and immediately stills. The crown is absolutely breathtaking, graceful and curved, and glowing. A soft blue light illuminates the more detailed designs drawing attention to subtle twists. The large jewel that rests on his forehead seems to be responsible, branching through the crown spreading the light like veins. Cedro, by some miracle, has applied makeup and carried the beautiful glowing veins down Lance’s face looping around his cheek and down his lips and neck. Lance suspects that they’re more but he’s more concerned with how Cedro did so much without him noticing. The shirt and pants are loose and blue, the shirt open to expose some of his chest and a light robin’s egg blue. The pants are darker and incredibly baggy, cinched at the ankle. Cedro has attached the red feather right behind his ear and it gently brushes his neck every time he turns. 

“Thank you Cedro, stunning as always,” Lance says twisting the mirror admire from the back. Cedro humbly places a hand on his chest. 

“My lady it pleases me to hear such flowery adoration from your lips!” Cedro swoons back onto the bed, arms flung to either side. Lance shoots the alien a dirty look but quickly returns to admiring his outfit. “Please hurry up Lady Mehallawit is waiting for you.” Lance stops gently returning the mirror to its original state.

“And you couldn’t tell me this before?” Lance angry exclaims tugging at the alien attendant’s arm.

“You were preening,” Cedro deadpans standing up and leading Lance out of the door. Lance scoffs, nearly tripping as his bare feet hit cold stone. The shock sends jolts up his spine, the sensation confusing and unwelcome. Cedro steadies him with a single large hand. Lance murmurs a soft thank you as the pair continues. Lance is too distracted to continue their earlier conversation which seems just as well for Cedro. 

They don’t enter Mehallawit’s chambers, the doors are wrong. A large curved crest of some alien animal lies in the center surrounded by red and blue swirls all leading to a diamond that rests exactly in the middle. Lance’s suspicions are proven correct as the doors swing open revealing a small little study with Mehallawit surrounded by large stacks of paper. They cross silently as the lady furiously scribbles away. Cedro pointedly clears his throat. 

Lady Mehallawit looks up and promptly bursts into tears, well no tear tears, her hairs does the hair fluff crying thing Cedro did. “Oh thank Masve, you’re here.” Mehallawit says wiping her face. The tears sizzle when they hit the paper and Lance fights the urge to cringe. “Please sit Disconcerted Paladin.” The Lady gestures to a chair with her free hand, still scribbling although less intense than before. She wears clothes this time, thank heavens. Lance doesn’t think he can handle nudity this early in the morning thank you very much.

“I know you’re wondering why I called you here,” Mehallawit begins moving the paper away from her and activating her holoscreen. “There is a class 3 ship transporting what we believe are transporting kidnapped people and endangered animals to be sold into private collections. The coalition will not act because none of their respective planets have reported any kidnappings from this ship. I strongly believe there’s at least thirty Reshark peoples onboard.” A large ship appears, the front a jagged spike with twin fins on either side. It looks somewhat like a steampunk airship from the twenty first century. 

Lance nods along. “So what will you have me do?” He asks. Mehallawit’s face splits into a wide smile, relief obvious in her eyes. 

“My dear mixed paladin,” She sighs, “I am so glad you asked.” Lance gulps at the knowing twinkle in her eye, a sudden sense of dread seizing his bones. 

 

Lance cover his mouth as another patrol of security officers passes by his hiding place. There are too many of them for the non-violent, non-precious cargo they claim to be hauling. Lance itches to contact Mehallawit but his comms have been cut off. Lance curses as he dashes to another pile of crates. These aliens are nothing if extremely efficient. Not for the first time since accepting this mission he wishes his team was with him. But they aren’t, far too busy to partake in vaguely illegal activities. 

Well it isn’t like he  _ asked  _ either. 

Another cluster of aliens makes their way past him chatting amicably. It hasn’t even been two minutes since the other group. Suddenly their voices just stop. Lance holds his breath, waiting for them to make another noise because they couldn’t have left that quickly. Minutes drag on in silence before Lance risks a look. They  _ are  _ gone. 

His hairs at the back of his neck stand up straight a deep sense of wrongness grating against his nerves. Yet still he continues. He needs the proof for Mehallawit, and if there’s people aboard then he needs to save them. This is what being a Paladin of Voltron is about. Saving People. Protecting those who can’t protect themselves. 

Lance continues on, eyes peeled for any more alien groups. He doesn’t find any, which only makes the wrongness grow. It turns into a heavy stone in the pit of his stomach. He reaches the end of the cargo bay, no sign of the Reshark in sight. Lance is beginning to think they are just a peculiar cargo ship with non-peculiar cargo when he hears it before the very last door. 

It isn’t very loud, not at first. Just a tiny thin sound. Then it starts to grow, and Lance immediately knows what it is. He was the preferred babysitter in his family, a baby babysitting babies as his family liked to tease, so he’s deeply familiar with the noise. A baby crying. There’s a  _ baby.  _

Lance pries open the door and stops breathing. It’s not just one baby. A dozen or so lay on their back on blankets, no adult in sight. Some have tails, some don’t. A variety of alien babies practically abandoned. Lance sucks in a deep breath, stepping into the room. He misses the movement behind him, doesn’t hear them approach. He does feel when a thick metal club makes contact with his skull but that’s the last thing he does before darkness claims him. 

  
  


Lance awakens violently. He jerks upwards which yanks on the tight chains on his arms and legs. As pain radiates from the cuffs digging into his skin, his yelp awakens the babies curled by his sides. Their cries are loud and add to the pounding at the base of his skull. His skull. His helmet! It’s gone! Along with his chestplate and armor. Lance feels oddly exposed with only his skintight suit to keep him warm. 

The nearest one to Lance flails his tiny fists in the air, their chest rising and falling. Sharp little fangs poke out of its gums, and if Lance had to wager a guess he’d say the poor little thing was teething. It opens its eyes and Lance sucks in a breath. The baby is obviously galra, with yellow iris-less eyes. It’s skin is just the faintest shade of lilac and has huge fuzzy ears and thick purple hair on its head. Which really should have clued Lance in at the beginning. Lance leans forward unable to let the baby cry on its own. 

Almost mercifully his captor chained his hands in front of him, allowing him to scoop the noisy baby into his arms. The other around him, four sprawled out, seem to only cry because of the teething one in his arms but Lance can’t be sure. He gently rocks the baby, hushing gently at it. The baby starts to quiet, whimpers slipping past the soft cries. Its tiny little hands fling wildly around. Lance takes on in his hand and that’s all the baby needs before latching onto one of his fingers and bringing it down into its mouth. Lance flinches trying to twist his finger away from it before it can bite him. Those little fangs, however cute, are still painful. 

The alien baby, to Lance’s surprise, doesn’t bite down but happily sucks on it instead. It starts cooing which is the most adorable thing Lance has ever witnessed. 

“Aww doesn’t my finger feel good?” Lance asks his voice soft, low, and gentle. The baby feels extremely hot so maybe his cool finger helps soothe the teething pains. The baby coos again, and to Lance’s surprise another baby near him coos as well. Lance turns his attention to the other babies now that they’re mostly quiet. 

One is blue, with four tiny little arms and a furry speckled tail. It has threes eyes, unopened, and it happily tugs on its feet. One has pale pink skin and two tiny little horns poking out of its head. The skin around the horns is bright red, and Lance is hit with realization he knows nothing of these babies species to know if that is normal or not. The last two huddle together, and Lance guesses they might be twins. They have little tubes out of their neck, with a swirling liquid. They lack legs and instead have a cute little scaled tail. They look like baby mermaids. 

The Galra in his arms makes an indignant noise, almost as if it senses that Lance’s attention isn’t on it. Lance giggles bouncing the baby a little. His finger slips out of his mouth as it laughs, its tiny frame shaking with joy. A small little nub of a tail wags behind it. 

“You’re so cute little one,” Lance smiles at the baby. It yips in response, like an adorable little puppy. It wiggles, satiated temporarily by the attention and Lance’s finger. It now wants to explore. Lance laughs but sets the wiggling child down. He checks the other five for any sign of discomfort lingering on the pink one. It lolls its head into Lance’s touch, its eyes slipping close and its mouth twisting into an expression similar to a contented smile. Still Lance worries. It is an alien baby after all. Carefully he touches the area around the horns. The baby doesn’t whine, or freeze or move at all from its contented smile so Lance assumes the horns are supposed to be like that. 

After checking that all the babies needs are taken care of he takes turns holding them. Each one responds positively to touch, so Lance assumes it’s safe to hold them. He slowly rocks the blue four armed baby watching as the Galra baby crawls around on the floor. It’s a resilient little thing, slipping frequently and getting straight back up with a watery look to Lance. It’s incredibly adorable. Tugs at his heartstrings. With a nod from Lance, the baby continues moving growing in confidence. Lance feels like a proud parent and his thoughts stray to what life would be like if he and Keith adopted children…

Lance shakes his head drawing himself out of such thoughts. The movement startles the baby in his arms which whimpers and grabs his arm painfully tight. It only relaxes when Lance coos at it. The baby offers a thin warbly coo in response. Lance offers a bitter smile, finally taking stock of his surroundings. He’d been so preoccupied with the tiny little lives in front of him, he neglected one of the basics of survival training. Always be aware of your surroundings. The walls are bare, the floor is bare, and there is a single door, locked by the look of it. The surroundings grow a light blue, and the only decoration are the blankets around him. No food, no windows, no weapon. It seems hopeless. 

To counter the fact, the little mermaids wiggle closer to Lance tucking themselves by his legs to sleep. The Galra baby starts to slow down, its tiny mouth opening in a yawn. Its ears tilt down and it turns to look at Lance. Then it starts crawling back towards Lance. It collapses near him and soft little sigh escaping it that has Lance giggling. He sets the four armed baby down in his lap and brings the Galra closer to cuddle. It curls into a ball and starts softly snoring as Lance places it in his lap. He brings the Horned baby closer as they all drift off to sleep. Lance sighs in relief that they must have a similar nap schedule. It makes it so much easier for him. Well not easier, but quieter which means he can think. 

 

Lance has wholly lost track of time when the door opens and an alien in armor steps in. Their face is covered by a mask. Lance tenses, leaning over the babies blocking them with his body. He glares at the alien. They just hover in the doorway before they start to slowly make their way towards Lance. They’re slow and cautious. They reach out for the sleeping Galra baby but a quick uppercut makes them think twice. They fall back rubbing their mask. Lance can’t see their expression but he can feel his own twisted snarl well enough. The alien, angered by the attack, pushes Lance back and rips the child from his lap. Lance wails in fury and sadness, they’re  _ his _ ! The small Galra baby wakes and starts wailing. Loudly. The other babies join in, their little lungs producing quite a bit of noise. The alien hurriedly places the baby back in Lance’s lap, and with an encouraging coo, the baby immediately quiets. The alien stands in the middle of the room dumbly, with Lance’s intense glare on them.  _ No one touches his babies. _

Lance should have questioned where the intense urge to protect came from but he didn’t. It feel so right, so perfect. It reverberated in his bones and just screamed ‘This is right. These are ours. We must protect.’ Righteous fury burns in his veins, and a intense concern weigh coldly on his heart. Lance should have done a lot of things. But he didn’t. He curled around his babies and growled. 

The alien marches forward. They snatch Lance’s chains and yank him forward. Lance falls, trying to avoid both landing on the babies and dumping them unceremoniously on the floor. Both the four-armed baby and the Galra latch onto Lance’s undersuit, their tiny claws digging into his skin painfully. They don’t fall, which is what Lance wanted but damn that hurts. The mermaid twins whimper and flop around on the ground. The horned baby latches onto his leg. 

The alien drops the chain and allows Lance to scoop up the twins in his hand and adjust the clingers to a more comfortable position. Then they yank on Lance’s chains again dragging him out of the room. Lance stumbles, eyes blinking at the harsh purple light right outside the door. The alien gives no time to adjust, yanking Lance forward down the hall.  Lance gently bounces the twins, eyes scanning the hallway for something. The Galra baby moves onto his back and nestles right below his shoulder blades while the four-armed baby bounces on his hip and the horned baby bounces on his other hip. 

The answer comes in the form of a thick metal pipe, dangling precariously off the wall. Lance doesn’t think twice, shifting one of the babies to free up an arm. He whips his makeshift weapon into the side of his alien guide. They drop faster than a sack of rocks thrown off the Golden State Bridge. Lance doesn’t waste any time stripping the alien of its armor and searching for the key. As he touches the alien’s belt his chains click free. He gently places the babies down, shushing them as he wiggles into the chestpiece. To complete the look he attaches on the helmet and suddenly it whirs to life, alien symbols flashing across his vision. Ignoring them, Lance stashes the unconscious alien in an empty room. He clips on the chains for good measure gather the babies in his arms. It similar to holding five large squirming puppies. A nightmare for sure. 

“C’mon little ones, just a little further,” Lance tries to soothe, scurrying the unknown halls looking for an exit. He’s really,  _ really  _ lost. The map Mehallawit provided for him is gone, and even if he had it he wouldn’t be able to use it anyway. Lance is really starting to worry, and the babies can sense it. They start to whine, a low hushed noise that only threatens to grow louder with time. Lance bounces them against his unforgiving chestplate, almost frantic with his need to quiet them. 

_ There.  _ Lance all but sprints through the nearest door and almost faints in relief as he sees ships, pods and all that jazz. The hangar is almost empty, just a faint clicking in the background tells him there’s another occupant. Lance doesn’t waste any time. He scurries to the nearest ship and opens the hatch. He climbs aboard and prepares for take off. The alien controls are similar enough to his lion, so it should be enough. Lance turns and clips each of the babies into their own harnesses, pressing a quick kiss to their little foreheads. In the slight chance he’s wrong, he wants affection to be the last thing they know. 

The ship rumbles to life with a roar, scaring the twins into screaming. There screams beget the others to start screaming too. Lance hasn’t the time to comfort them, he needs to get off. Others will have heard the ship powering up. Lance powers on the engines. The ship rises, gently bobbing as the power steadies. An intercom pops up, and alien voice crackling and spitting. Lance pays it no mind, finishing the final steps to escape. The babies continue to scream, blocking the out the roar of the engines as Lance surges forward. No screams could cover up the sound of blaster fire. The sound haunts his dreams. The ship jerks to the side as a blaster rips through. The shields power up after the intense hit. A little too late. Lance purses his lips but there’s nothing he can do. It would be a miracle if he made it to the ground. Warning lights flash over the hull, alien symbols popping up here and there. Lance ignores them pushing forward and out of the hull of the giant spacecraft. 

Everyone stops and just breaths. The wide view of the land below comes into focus as the nose of the ship dips down slowly, the babies cries become white noise. The glare of the sun against the ship flashes into his eyes for a brief second. They hover, adrift in a sea of a light peach. The world tills ever so slightly, like the slow fall of a roller coaster before the highest peak.  

Everything comes back together. The wails, the loud alarms in the background as they free fall through the open air. Lance grunt slamming the controls trying to correct or even alter the ship’s course. Orange flames start to lick the sides of the craft, while Lance slams the controls. Fear riots in his chest, chains wrapping around his chest and clawing at his eyes. He’s gonna die. 

_ Oh God he’s gonna die.  _

A sob rips from his throat, animalistic and wet. He can’t, he can’t. He slams his hands into the control yell with pure anger, and worry, and fear. Hot tears slip from his eyes and land onto the control panel as the craft tumbles down...and down...and down…

Until he isn’t. There’s no movement, an unnatural stillness that settles deep on his bones. A fire licks in his veins, an intense will to fight. Slowly, as his eyes peel back he recognizes that will is not his own. Slowly, Lance recognizes Red gently holding him in his jaw, his yellow eyes shining smugly down on him as if to say  _ silly one, i’ll always catch you.  _ Red swishes his tail, gently holding the spacecraft for a few more moments basking in his own self-righteousness. Lance resists the urge to roll his eyes, his relief still course through his veins and soothing his soul. 

“Took you long enough,” Lance croaks out his voice raw. He clears his throat spinning around. He can feel Red’s snort, but he ignores it in favor of shushing the frantic babies. They recognize his voice and start calming down, opting instead to throw their tiny fists around. Lance coos before returning to the controls. 

“Red take us down- gently,” Lance pleads. The lion hesitates, scoffing, before heading towards the ground slowly. Lance closes his eyes and focuses on his lion. Their connection flickers like a wildfire, all power and no grace or finesse. With Blue it was an ocean, a dance. Not with Red. Red takes and takes, snapping and twitching, only giving back when he’s satiated. Giving back in an overwhelming rush of fire and power and speed.  _ It’s exhilarating. _

When Lance opens his eyes, they’re not his eyes. They’re Red’s. A faint red tint colors the panoramic view. The creatures crawling on the surface glow with yellows and reds, like a heat sensor. Even the background, although purple and blue, is still tinted red. Lance thinks it’ pretty extra but that’s Red for you. He doesn’t do anything halfway. Not bonding and certainly not sharing his vision. Red roars, his call probably waking the other paladins. Lance dryly sighs. 

“Thanks Red,” he deadpans already feeling the lecture he’s going to receive. Red smugly wiggles, in a way only a giant space robot-cat can. Lance sighs, zooming on the ground. Faint human shapes tell him that someone’s waiting for him on the ground, no four someones. Quiznak. Guess Red didn’t wake them with his roar after all. Quiznak, another two join the waiting group. Lance offers a prayer to whatever deity watches this planet for him  _ not  _ to die today. Red is, of course, no help. Lance makes sure the Red Lion knows this. Red doesn’t respond, like a coward. 

The Red Lion gently lands, not at the feet of the other paladins. He stretches and places Lance’s craft at their feet instead, and flies off. Lance curses him in spanish, preparing for his death. He turns to the babies and unbuckles them. 

“It was an honor flying with you,” Lance says taking the tiny Galra by the fist. The door screams as it’s wrenches aside. Lance flinches at the horrible noise, and almost in union the babies start screaming. Shiro, his hand already cooling off, freezes in the doorway at the noise. Shiro heats back up his arm when he notices Lance, which damn, he didn’t think they’d be this mad. Lance gathers the loudest one in his arms and gently rocks it. The Galra baby, clings to Lance’s chest burying his head in the metal of the armor. 

“Identify yourself,” Shiro says his eyes shining and untrusting.  _ Oh.  _ Lance shifts the baby and slowly moves his hand to his helmet careful not to make any sudden movements to set off the tense paladin. The helmet comes off with a hiss and clatters on the ground. At the sight of Lance’s face the baby coos and stops crying. Wiggling aggressively in Lance’s clutch, it reaches up for Lance’s hair. Or lips. It reaches up. 

“Lance,” Shiro breaths out immobile. His arm is outstretched, his left one. The human one. Gently Shiro cups Lance’s face as if proving to himself that Lance is real. That Lance is here. If Lance wasn’t already hopelessly in love with someone else, he would have swooned. Scratch that. He’s already swooning.  Like internally. Gotta keep it cool in front of Shiro the Hero. 

“Hey.” His voice cracks. Like really, really,  _ really  _ bad. Lance wishes Red didn’t catch him. Shiro smiles, a small little thing, but it’s there. Lance’s crops are watered, his pores are clear, his children are thriving. Death no longer tempts him with its sweet sweet release. Then the smile falls and Space Dad adopts his patented I’m-disappointed-in-you-Lance look. 

“Okay, Shiro it’s not as bad as it looks!” Lance defends before Shiro has a chance to say anything. “Yes I might have stolen five babies but they’re  _ mine. _ Okay maybe not mine exactly, I didn’t give birth or anything, that’d be super, super weird. I’m pretty sure I haven’t been gone for like 9 months, oh my god have I been gone nine months?!” The adrenaline kicks up a notch recognizing that Lancey Lance is going to die soon. 

Shiro starts laughing effectively cutting Lance off from his rant. “I’m pretty sure you can’t give birth Lance.” He says. He moves to pick up a babies which squirms uncomfortably in his grip. “Though you’d make a great mother.” Lance gaps, open mouth at the teasing. He’ll never get used to it. He’s going to die. He only moves when the baby whimpers picking them up in his hold. 

“You’re not mad?” Lance asks like a little toddler with his hand stuck in the cookie jar and a very patient parent helping him remove it. 

“I’m seething with rage.” Shiro chirps a too wide smile on his face. He picks up another child who also squirms. Lance takes it. Dread sinks in his stomach. The cycle continues until Lance has his arms full of happy squirming babies. 

“Shiro what’s-” A very familiar and welcome figure climbs into the craft. The pale peach light illuminates the sharp curves of his shoulders, the soft little floof of his mullet. His glowing Marmorite suit adds a purple tint to his features, drawing attention to his iridescent pissed off eyes. Oh quiznak. “Lance,” he growls, literally growls-fangs and all! Lance gulps in fear and arousal. Moreso fear. 

“Hey wassup,” Lance aims for casual. Like ‘what’s up bro don’t kill me’. Nothing too fancy. Does he achieve it? No. He does not. He just hopes his incredible good looks and charming personality convince Keith that he isn’t worth killing. 

Keith stalks towards Lance, hands clenched in fists. Images of Animal Planet documentaries flash behind Lance’s eyes. He squeezes them shut preparing for the blow. He imagines Keith won’t hold back, he just hopes it isn’t too dark to hide with heavy concealer.

Warm sturdy arms wrap around Lance, pulling him close. He stumbles, ear pressed tight against Keith’s chest. Lance can hear the faint drumming of his heart, fast, too fast. Lace slowly shifts so that the babies aren’t crushed. They chirp quietly seeming to enjoy the hug as well. Lance isn’t sure if that’s good for them. The world just melts away at Keith’s instant touch. His hand is heavy again Lance’s back, searing into his flesh. Everywhere burns with oversensitivity, sparks flying to his brain. He is overwhelmed by Keith, his scent, his touch. But Lance wouldn’t have it any other way. Even through the confusing array of sparks and warmth, Keith’s strong arm, and firm chest are grounding. The red paladin burns everything else away, leaving Lance weak kneed but so content. Lance can hear Keith’s heartbeat start to slow, relaxing as Keith continues to hold him gently. 

“Don’t do that,” Keith growls his voice rough and thick. Lance raises his arms to wrap around Keith and gently tugs his head towards his neck before remembering the babies and dropping them back down. . Warmth drips onto his armor and neck, wetting his skin. Keith shakes in his arms, hiccuping softly, very obviously trying hard not to cry. 

“Hey I’m here, I’m safe.” Lance runs his nails through the mullet, scraping Keith’s scalp. Keith arches into the contact, becoming putty in Lance’s hands. His sobs come earnestly now that Keith isn’t trying to bite them back. He presses his nose into the juncture of Lance’s head and neck. Lance gently coos as him as his cries start to lessen in intensity, repeating his quiet assurances. 

Shiro coughs in the background, but Lance ignores it. Keith still clings to him as if Lance is dying. His tears are dried but Lance can feel him sniffing still. The tears on his skin cool and start to dry. Lance gently turns his head resting his cheeks again Keith’s soft mullet to stare at the Black Paladin. The black paladin rocks his arms like rocking a baby. Lance narrows his eyes and barely shakes his head. Shiro shakes his head and points at Lance’s arms. Lance looks down to see the tiny galra baby climb up his armor and squishing himself further between him and Keith. Lance sighs, and the baby starts to purr. 

Keith jumps back so suddenly that the Galra baby almost falls. It has to dig its claws into Lance’s flesh to keep from falling. Keith hisses, and the sound only grows louder as Lance winces. 

“Shut up,” Lance says lifting every baby closer to his face and cooing at them to keep them quiet. Keith stops immediately, his face falling like a chastised toddler. Lance rolls his eyes, bridging the space between them. “Be quiet.” He instructs leaning over to let the baby Galra fall into Keith hands. The thing is stubborn, clinging insistently to Lance. The claws are a nuisance. 

Keith in some miracle of understanding gently wraps his arms around the baby’s middle and wiggles it free. They both stare at each other, the baby galra’s ears wiggling around. If Keith looked more Galra, Lance is sure he’d be doing that too. The baby starts to whine, thick tears welling in its eyes. Lance heart drops. Keith chuffs and leans forward and puffs on the baby’s face. It quickly stops its crying blinking up at the half galra. Then it bursts into giggles, claws opening and closing trying to get closer to Keith. Lance coos, his heart swooning at the sight of Keith cuddling with a small Galra baby. 

“Oh my god, oh my god, is this yours?! You weren’t gone that long! Oh my god! I swear I’ll be a good father-” Keith starts babbling. Lance shuts him up by kicking him in the shins. 

“You two are made for each other,” Shiro deadpans. Oh he’s still there. “Last time I checked human guys can’t get pregnant Keith.” Shiro says offhandedly as he exits the craft leaving a burning Keith in his wake. Lance stifles his laughter although he too made that mistake.  Keith burns red but still reaches out to Lance.

“Here let me get another,” Keith says his voice rough from crying. Lance passes him the horned baby keeping Four arms and the twins for himself. The horned baby curls dutifully in Keith’s arms not making a fuss. The Galra smacks at Keith’s face babbling happily. Keith moves the edge of the craft before stopping and turning around. 

“If you ever disappear like that again Lance, I will kill you,” With that Keith steps out of the spacecraft. Lance can hear faint exclamations from his other teammates. He takes a second to compose himself before wandering out to join them. 


End file.
